


Long Ago

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-07
Updated: 2005-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: A younger Severus Snape finds himself back in time when another spell collides with his at a Death Eater ambush.  With the help of Transfuguration instructor Professor Dumbledore, he must find his way back.  How will his presence in the past affect his own future, and that of the Wizarding World?~Characters, names, world, everything, belong to JK Rowling and those designated by her to publish or otherwise reproduce Harry Potter etc. for profit.





	1. When Spells Collide

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

* * *

Severus Snape had spent seven years at Hogwarts, being ignored by most of the students, tormented by a few, stared at strangely by his Transfiguration professor, and had suffered through covert pitying glances from the headmaster. At home, when he bothered to go there, he endured his father’s impotent rages, his mother’s cringing and whining, and the superior attitudes of nearby neighbours. The Snapes had few friends.

When he left school, he got a position as an apprentice to a Potions master who mixed potions, salves, ointments, balms, lotions, unguents and creams for several Wizarding apothecaries across Britain.

At night, or whenever the call went out, he joined his true master in the circle of his followers.

Life was right and proper. Severus was pleased with his accomplishments. He did well in his studies, earning high praise. He did as well in his nocturnal activities furthering the cause of Pure-blooded wizards and witches.

But as time passed, and more and more old school acquaintances married, he was dissatisfied. Lucius Malfoy, who had been five years his senior and his entrance to the Dark Lord’s circle, had married Narcissa Black. Narcissa’s sisters had married. As for his enemies, he secretly rejoiced that no woman in her right mind would marry Remus Lupin, the Werewolf of Hogwarts, or Sirius Black, rogue Gryffindor and eternal prat.

But what really twisted the knife was the marriage of his arch-nemesis throughout school, James Almighty Potter, to the rather nice but unfortunately Muggle-born Lily Evans. If it hadn’t been for her ancestry, Severus wouldn’t have minded trying for her himself.

He picked up the yellowing clipping from the Daily Prophet and stared at it again:

Recently, James Potter to Lily Evans. The date was nearly two years before. Above the caption, the couple smiled and nodded at their anonymous well-wishers.

Well, if wishes were horses, Severus would have a stable full. Evans could never be more than a Mudblood. And he could never accept anything less than a Pure-blooded witch. Let James I’m Perfect Potter deal with the problems that would arrive, Squib children.

Severus smirked. Exactly how would Gryffindor’s golden boy react when his child couldn’t turn a teapot to a turkey? Would he be able to keep that self-important smirk on his face? Severus doubted it. That’s what came of marrying for True Love.

His arm began to burn as the sun sank in the sky. Severus closed the cover of the book he’d been staring at, and Apparated to the appointed place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a while now since he’d become disillusioned by the Dark Lord’s empty promises. It wasn’t so much a failure on the great wizard’s part to affect change. It was more that the Dark Lord was using the Pureblood fanaticism of his followers in order to gain more power, and place for himself. Severus had suspected for some time that the Dark Lord meant to take over the Wizarding World by any means, and this was just a hook on which to hang his ambitions. He really didn’t care about purity. All he cared about was raw, despotic power.

If the terrible wizard knew of Severus’s contact with his former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, Severus’s life would have ceased. But Severus took pains to keep that from happening. He was skilled in Occlumency, he used this skill to keep the Dark Lord from his thoughts. He meekly followed orders and made no attempt at furthering himself in the organisation. He was a sheep. And the Dark Lord ignored sheep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been assigned to ambush two highly-trained Aurors. Lucius Malfoy’s cell staked out their ambush site, members on either side of the path the Aurors would have to take in order to get to their set-up target, a house on the Malfoy lands. Anti-Apparating spells had been placed around the house, just so the Aurors would have to run the gauntlet of Death Eaters. Severus and the other four waited. Soon, the cautious step of the two victims could be heard.

They appeared suddenly, walking almost silently and cautiously through the trees. Severus and his counterpart across the pathway waited until the Aurors had passed, then they melted from the greenery to block their retreat. Farther along, Lucius, clad in black from hood to boots, stepped out of his hiding place and pointed his wand casually at the older of the two.

“Going somewhere?”

The area erupted with spells being flung from wand to body. Some spells passed by harmlessly overhead, others hit their mark. Occasionally, two spells collided, raining sparks down on the duellers below.

The Aurors knew their business, and were difficult to peg. Severus wouldn’t have been surprised if the spells against Apparating had been placed poorly, the victims moved so quickly and seemed to be everywhere at once. One fell, only to be suddenly on his feet again, wand at the ready, blocking the next blow. Severus formulated a retarding spell to try and slow the two men. Almost at once, another spell was cast and the two collided at the tip of Severus’s wand.

Severus was knocked backwards into a tree. Lights burst around the edges of his vision. He struggled to sit up, but couldn’t seem to manage. His ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the world finally stopped whirling like a floo gone mad, he opened his eyes. The sky was pale overhead and traced with high grey clouds. There seemed to be too much sky. And, it seemed to be early morning. Severus sat up and rubbed the back of his head. The bump wasn’t large enough to merit a night-long sleep.

He got up and went down the path.

Things were curiously serene. There were no marks on the trees from the fight the night before, no churned ground where Severus knew there should be some. The quiet wood was unmarred by any passing human interference.

Someone was coming. Severus slipped into the greenery and waited.

A man of about sixty rounded the bend, then stopped. He was staring at the place Severus had lain until just seconds before. He turned his head slowly until he caught Severus’s eyes between the leaves where he had been watching.

“Come on out,” he said.

Severus hesitated, but the man casually removed his wand from his sleeve in a manner reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy confronting the Aurors. Severus stepped out and nodded to the man.

“What’s your name?”

The man’s accent was heavily northern, shot through with rural underpinnings. Severus had heard tales of supposedly naive farmers getting the better of city people, so he didn’t trust the man immediately. “Stephanus. Er, Adelbert Stephanus.”

“Adelbert? Or, addle-pated? Where’d you gain a name like that?”

“It was my father’s.” Minus the ‘Snape’.

The man shook his head, then led Severus to the house.

Severus had seen the house two days before, when he had helped Lucius set the spells that would force the Aurors to use the path. It had been a run-down shack of a place, its door hanging from a heavy iron hinge affixed at the top, its bottom hinge having long ago been taken to repair a better property. The porch had swayed precariously where it clung, as if afraid, to the clapboards. Old rosebushes, vines and lilacs had overgrown the walls and its chimney had been crumbling.

The house he saw now was spruced up bright and new, nice paper in the window panels to keep out bugs and draft, the porch sitting proudly against its outer walls, the door hung plumb and set in place.

The man’s wife, introduced as merely Hilde, placed some food in front of Severus and told him to eat. The food was unidentifiable by look, but warm and good. When he was nearly finished, she set a cup of hot coffee by his plate and asked him how he took it.

Fed and refreshed, Severus didn’t mind accompanying the man back down the path. He looked for any indication of the night’s attack, but still found nothing. The man didn’t mention anything, either. It was as if the night hadn’t happened at all.

“Where are you headed?” the man asked as they reached a gravelled road.

Why not? “Hogwarts.” Dumbledore might be interested in this turn of events.

“You a professor?”

“Er, no. I’ve friends there.”

The man looked up and down the road. “Hilde’s cousin can take you as far as Hogsmeade.”

The man seemed as anxious to be rid of Severus as Severus was to be away from the man. He didn’t talk enough, which made him suspicious.

An odd sound began, softly at first and then growing. Something like the plip-plop of a potion brewing in a closed container, along with a sort-of chug. The man smiled with satisfaction and watched the road. In a minute, an old jalopy rocked into view.

“There’s Matthew now.” The man waved at the car, and the driver negotiated with the vehicle to come to a stop. It sat there, bobbing and rocking impatiently as the man got out and shook the other man’s hand. Severus was introduced, and the same joke about ‘Adelbert’ and ‘addle-pated’ was repeated by his new host.

“Hen’t you got no luggage?” Matthew asked as they climbed aboard the antique.

“I sent it on ahead.”

Matthew stepped on a pedal and fought with a long chrome-shafted gear shift. The car began to move. He stepped on the pedal again and grabbed a lever this time, and the scenery faded to a blur.

In just moments, they were idling along the side of the road between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. Severus alighted and thanked his host, then set off down the dusty track toward the school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hogwarts didn’t look quite the same as Severus remembered it. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but it seemed smaller somehow. He’d only been gone a couple of years. It could hardly be that he’d gotten so much taller. He stopped at the gate, and saw immediately that it was much different than the gate he remembered. It was a sleek, wrought-iron affair, straight pipes and edges, with a large crescent moon cut out and edged in thinner iron at the hinges of the left-hand gate.

A bronze plaque was affixed to the stone pillars supporting the gate:  
Welcome to   
Hogwarts Academy  
of  
Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Armando Dippett, Headmaster

Severus stood staring at the plaque for a minute, then looked back at the school. Armando Dippett? He was headmaster before Dumbledore! But, that might explain the changes in the school. Somehow, he had been transported back in time.

He was there, he might as well go in. Dumbledore taught Transfiguration under Dippett. He would talk to Dumbledore and somehow get to the bottom of things.

He studied the buildings while he walked. The difference was clear now that he knew he wasn’t in his own time. The Astronomy Tower was the key. It had been renovated shortly after Dumbledore had been made headmaster, and its area expanded. No wonder it seemed as if there was more space! There was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus stopped the caretaker as he rushed through the entrance hall. “Could I ask where I might find Professor Dumbledore?”

The man rounded on Severus, peering at him with his one good eye. There was a patch over the other eye, and frayed hair stuck out around his forehead and temples. He growled, exposing long, yellowing bottom teeth, and pointed to the stairs. “Third floor. Second hallway. Second door on the right.” Then he wheeled around and stormed off as if Severus had kept him from an important task.

Severus made his way up to the third floor. No one was about. Even the ghosts seemed to be away. It was still early enough for class to be in session, but he didn’t even know if it was still summer, or if the season had changed like the year.

The second hallway, second door on the right. Severus knocked and the familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore asked him to come in. He opened the door and stepped into the office. Dumbledore was waiting expectantly at his desk.

“Professor Dumbledore?”

The man was unquestionably Dumbledore. But his face had fewer lines, and there were still fading streaks of auburn in his hair and beard. His blue eyes weren’t as vivid under reddish brows and a deeper tan. Severus tried not to stare.

“You are..?”

“Severus Snape.”

The brows creased together. “Are you any relation to Vidalis Snape?”

“Yes.”

Dumbledore waited.

“He’s my grandfather.”

Dumbledore didn’t move a muscle. Not a whisker twitched, not a finger quivered. Finally he took a deep breath. “What is your father’s name?”

“Adelbert Stephanus Snape.”

Dumbledore took his quill and made a note. “Birth date?”

“Mine?”

“Your father’s.”

“The seventh of September, nineteen thirty-eight.”

Severus could see being cautious, but he felt odd answering such elementary questions. Anyone could have looked them up. Dumbledore seemed to think they were decent questions. He made a note of the date, then set his quill aside. “Have a seat. What can I do for you, Mr. Snape?”

“I have a problem.”

Dumbledore nodded. He reached in his drawer and brought out a smooth wooden egg decorated with yellow dots. The top opened and he extended the box to Severus. “Lemon drop?”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Now, what is your problem?”

Severus leaned back in his chair. Where to begin? Or, rather, how to introduce the entire history of their acquaintance once the basic problem had been stated?

“You’re having some trouble, I see. Shall I help? You’ve come back in time and you don’t know how, or why, or how to leave.”

“That’s a beginning. Yes, sir.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “Would you care to expound?”

Severus began at the moment of his last memory in his own time, then filled in the blanks. Dumbledore played with his wand as he listened. When Severus finished, he sighed.

“There are one or two points I would appreciate. First, what is the last date you remember?”

“The third of August, nineteen seventy-nine.”

“And what is the name of this Dark Lord?”

“His name is...”

Severus couldn’t say it. He put his teeth to his lips, but the name wouldn’t come out. He’d been taught to respect the Dark Lord, to treat his name as holy. After a while he understood that the name itself invoked an awareness in the Dark Lord toward the speaker, that he wished to avoid. He shook his head, then reached for the quill on Dumbledore’s desk. In a shaking hand, he wrote the name: Voldemort.

Dumbledore examined the name. His half-moon glasses slipped to the end of his nose as he pulled his face as long as he could. He squinted, he moved the scrap of parchment closer, then farther away. His brows rose to his hairline, then dropped to perch atop his eyes. “Does that say ‘Voldemort’?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not ‘Grindelwald’?”

“No, sir.”

“Yes. Well.” The older wizard pulled a few more faces and laid the scrap aside. “So you had become fed up with this particular Dark Lord, and agreed to be a spy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And yet, you took part in an ambush?”

“Yes.”

“There is no chance you might recall the spell which collided with yours?”

“I don’t even know who cast it, Professor, let alone what it was.”

Dumbledore sighed. “That will make things more difficult. Presuming, of course, that you wish to return to your own time.”

There was nothing in his own time that would ordinarily attract him, but Severus felt distinctly out of place. “I do wish to return, if it’s at all possible.”

Dumbledore transfigured a small globe into a baby acromantula, then changed it into a toad. “I hope, then, that it will be possible. In the meantime, what was your field of study? Or, did you go on to higher learning?”

“I had taken a position as apprentice to a Potions master.”

“A worthy occupation. Would you like to continue your apprenticeship?”

“Is there an opening in the area?”

“Our enrolment is not limited.”

“Enrolment?”

Dumbledore leaned on his arms. “Hogwarts has a comprehensive apprenticeship programme, overseen by the professors on our staff. An apprentice might take over the instruction of the first year students as he approaches the end of his studies. Do you mean to tell me this practice has been abandoned in... when did you say it will be?”

“Nineteen seventy-nine.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“I have never known of an apprenticeship programme at Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore sighed. “And so, the world moves on.”

The toad tried to hop off his desk and he transfigured it back into the globe. “You should speak to our Potions Master if you intend to continue your studies with us.” He rose. “I will take you to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The current Potions Master was a venerable wizard named Emilius Strobe. His long white hair shone like moonstone against his rich blue robes, and his brows were long and spiking. His eyes were a deeper blue than Dumbledore’s, as dark as the twilit sky. He was enjoying a beaker of cocoa when they entered the Potions lab and a heavy tome was open before him. Severus peered at the book. It seemed very old, its pages bubbled and warped by time.

By agreement, Severus had gone back to using his father’s first and middle names, so the relationship to his grandfather would not be remarked. Dumbledore introduced Severus as Adelbert Stephanus, and Strobe took him at his word.

“You did not pass through my classes,” Strobe said, looking over his glasses at Severus. “Tell me, where did you take your instruction?”

Dumbledore remained silent. He had done his coaching on the way downstairs.

“I was tutored at home, sir.”

The wizard stood up and moved away from the table. “I have been reviewing in preparations for classes to begin. I should like for you to produce this Puissance.”

Severus moved around the table and read the potion. It was an intermediate Strength potion, hardly difficult. He moved to fetch the ingredients, then remembered that he had supposedly never set foot in Hogwarts before that day. He nodded toward the door to the Potions stores. “Is that your supply room, sir?”

The bushy brows rose, pleased, and the Potions Master nodded.

Severus mixed the potion, then stepped back. Strobe bent over the cauldron to examine it. He tested its colour and its odour. He dribbled some from the ladle to confirm its consistency.

“Very good, Mr. Stephanus. I should judge you a year and six months into your apprenticeship. Albus, since you have been kind enough thus far, would you take Mr. Stephanus to the apprentice wing and see that he receives his issue and a room?”

“I would be happy to oblige, Miles. Mr. Stephanus, if you will?”

Severus followed Dumbledore up the stairs to a corridor he remembered as being unused in his school days. A door at the beginning of the hallway was open. Dumbledore led him inside. When they emerged, Severus was carrying everything he would need as an apprentice at Hogwarts. Dumbledore showed him down the hall, to a room at the very end.

It was a spacious room, its walls painted a creamy white. A sink recessed into the wall divided the room in half. Each side of the room mirrored the other. There were two beds placed to the right and left of the sink, two desks along either side wall, and two bureaus and two armoires facing the beds.

“Classes won’t begin until next Monday,” Dumbledore said. “You will have a week to adjust to your assumed name before you are assigned a roommate. You have a list of rules and regulations for apprentices, I suggest you study them. My office is just down the hall. Stop by to see me before dinner tonight and we’ll talk more about your problem. The library is open if you would like to read. Until this evening, then?”

Severus nodded. Dumbledore withdrew, leaving Severus to arrange his things and read the rules.


	2. Cat's-Eyes

  
Author's notes: As the school year begins, Professor Dumbledore has less time to devote to the problem of sending Severus up in time. Severus adapts to the apprentice programme, and meets a woman.  
~Characters, names, world, everything, belong to JK Rowling and those designated by her to publish or otherwise reproduce Harry Potter etc. for profit.  


* * *

* * *

The rules covered everything from dress and appearance, to personal relationships. Severus had been issued everything he would need to continue at Hogwarts until such time as he would be able to leave, if that would ever be possible. He had the proper clothes and robes, and the scholastic wizard’s hat was even lined and trimmed in bottle green, for the scientific disciplines. He had no intention of calling his fellow-classmates by anything other than their last names. He had no family or friends, so the rules governing their conduct could be ignored.

He hadn’t carried any money back with him to cover the cost of his supplies, since he had been on an assignment. But Dumbledore made him a loan, to be repaid at an unspecified later date. All he needed to do, really, was get used to being called ‘Mr. Stephanus’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first day of the fall semester dawned. The Hogwarts Express would arrive shortly before a late dinner, as was customary even in his own day. Apprentices, though, were expected to make their own way to the school. By ten o’clock, his fellow classmates began to arrive.

Severus was leaving his room to go to lunch when the door across from his opened and a man stepped out. Their eyes met, Severus was surprised to see a man who looked very like Remus Lupin. The man nodded and extended his hand.

Severus took it.

“You’re new here,” the man said. “My name is Romulus Lupin.”

“Adelbert Stephanus.”

They walked to the stairs together.

“What is your course of study?” Lupin asked.

“Potions. Yours?”

“Herbology. You didn’t attend Hogwarts Academy?”

“No. I was schooled at home.”

Lupin shrugged. “That must have been dull.”

“I found ways to occupy myself.”

“Good.” He smiled and nodded, and they parted company outside the Great Hall. Lupin joined another young man who had just entered. Severus went into the Hall.

The Hogwarts of 1938 was organised along different lines than the Hogwarts of the 1970s. The most noticeable difference was the presence of two tables stretching to either side of the doors at the back of the hall. They mirrored the head table, with the doors replacing the splendid throne of the headmaster. Wizards sat to the left as the students and apprentices entered the hall, and witches sat to the right.

The House tables would be seated in similar fashion, with the young wizards to the left of the table, the young witches to the right. Severus wondered how that might have affected the students when he was in school. It would certainly have prevented couples from pairing up and holding hands underneath the tables!

Lupin introduced his friend, one Hurley Davis who was studying Charms, and the three ate together in relative silence.

When Severus returned from lunch, his roommate had arrived. He was a rather dashing young man near Severus’s age, over-confident and impudent, whose shoulder-length hair combed back from his face gave the impression of a dandy from a different era. He barely bothered to sit up on his bed when Severus entered.

“You must be Stephanus. I’m Filch.”

Severus nodded and retrieved the book he’d gotten from the library.

“I haven’t met you before. What are you studying?”

“Potions. And you?”

“Charms.” Filch grinned rakishly. “You wouldn’t know any potions to prevent a pregnancy, would you?”

“Why? Were you planning on becoming pregnant otherwise?”

Filch rolled his eyes and chuckled as he flopped back onto his pillow. “It is better to give than to receive.”

Severus frowned and raised his book. He wouldn’t care for this Filch.

They could hear the other apprentices arriving along the hall. After a while, Filch got up and left. Severus read until it was time to go down for dinner.

The Sorting Ceremony was to take place before the feast began. Severus sat beside Lupin again as they watched the first-years taking their place under the ancient hat. One student drew everyone’s attention, a very large young man, more than two heads taller than his fellows. The deputy headmaster called the name of Rubeus Hagrid, and Severus realised where he had seen this man before. He was the gamekeeper at the Hogwarts of the future.

Young, beardless, and with his hair obviously cut at home, Hagrid was sorted into Gryffindor. Severus frowned. He had no idea the half-giant was anything but that, half-giant, half-human, and therefore in need of a protected place to stay.

That he had gone through Hogwarts was a surprise. He had never seen the man use magic of any sort. It should have made sense, though, if he would have thought of it. How would a Muggle ever have met a giant, or a giantess, in order to marry?

After the feast, Severus went back to the third floor, avoiding the Academy students who were going to their Houses. It was still early, the apprentices didn’t have to be in their rooms until ten o’clock. He saw Filch enter their room and decided to take a walk along the gallery overlooking the grounds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first week went along. Severus did well enough in his lessons that Professor Strobe advanced him to the second year’s studies. His only problem was in remembering which potions had come into use after 1938. He had no idea what his classmates thought of his advancement. He didn’t stop with any of them outside of classes. He preferred to be alone.

Besides Hagrid, and the man he assumed to be Remus Lupin’s grandfather, he saw others that he recognised. Professor Flitwick had finished his Charms apprenticeship the summer term before, and had been entrusted to instruct the second through fifth years as his training to become a full professor. He ran around the castle, his arms filled with books or parchments, constantly fretting about being in arrears.

Professor Binns had a body. Though he was still as dry as dust.

There was one person Severus did not expect to see. Professor McGonagall had been his Transfiguration instructor, but Dumbledore currently held that post. Since the apprentices were not allowed to socialise with the Academy students, Severus didn’t believe he would run across her. That was fine with him. She was Gryffindor in the first place, prim, proper, and something of a prude. And she had the disconcerting habit of staring at him oddly when she thought he wasn’t looking. He had always attributed that to pity, as much as she was capable of bestowing such a thing on a Slytherin. Everyone at the Hogwarts of his day knew his circumstances.

Because of Filch, Severus spent much of his time in the library, or in one of the common rooms allotted to the apprentices, or wandering the halls. The Sunday after the first week of classes, he walked down the instructor’s hall on his way to the gallery when he saw that Professor Dumbledore’s door was open. He stopped on the threshold, and Dumbledore invited him in.

“Mr. Stephanus!” Dumbledore rose and shook his hand, “You are my favourite apprentice! Because of you, I won the faculty stakes. Sit down!” The wooden box came out. “Lemon drop?”

Severus put one in his mouth. He was perplexed. “I’m pleased I could be of service. But I don’t recall any discussion about a purse.”

Dumbledore beamed. “Of course you wouldn’t think of it, given the circumstances. But, today is your father’s birthday.”

Severus thought. Yes, it was indeed the seventh of September, which always seemed to be a Sunday at Hogwarts. But, how did that have anything to do with a sweepstakes purse?

Then he remembered. This was the seventh of September, nineteen thirty-eight. His father’s birth day. He narrowed his eyes and smirked at Dumbledore. The old man had some cunning after all!

Dumbledore smiled beatifically at him. “Thanks to your information, I was able to predict the date of your father’s arrival, earning myself the pot. Your debt has been repaid.”

They talked a while longer. Dumbledore was still searching for a way to get Severus back to his own time. He apologised that his duties, now that the apprentices and students had returned, would prevent him from researching as much as he otherwise might. Severus didn’t mind. He found Professor Strobe’s lessons to be beneficial.

He also could not attend any Death Eater meetings. Which was a relief, since he had stopped believing in the Dark Lord as anything other than a megalomaniac. His days were spent in study, without the fear of being called at night. He found, to his surprise, that he didn’t care if Dumbledore ever found a way to send him back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though the Dark Lord was still in the future, another Dark Lord had arisen. The wizard’s name was Grindelwald. Though it was uttered in hushed tones and forgotten just as quickly as it could be. He was known to have influence at the Ministry of Magic, though his spies had never been discovered. He was out for power as much as the other Dark Lord, and he used the same polemic: Purity of blood.

Lord Grindelwald had adherents everywhere. When Severus had gone into Hogsmeade to purchase his supplies, he had overheard conversations between supporters and detractors, and wondered that they couldn’t see what would come. There was no definitive answer to the blood purity debate, each witch and wizard had to follow according to personal principle and leave everyone else to do the same.

There were even followers among the apprentices, and the Academy students. Not surprisingly, Slytherins were more likely to lean toward Grindelwald’s message.

There were rumours that Grindelwald had compounds where he incarcerated his enemies. Any strange disappearance, particularly if the missing person had been vocal against the Pureblood movement, was assumed to have been spirited away in the middle of the night to one of these encampments. When a body was found, as one was during the second week of school, mutilated and decaying along the road outside of Glasgow’s Wizarding district, the unfortunate soul was believed to have been tortured to death by Grindelwald’s faithful.

Filch was in some agreement with the Pureblood Principle as he liked to call it. “No wife of mine’ll have Muggle blood,” he said when debate started up after the discovery of the corpse, “I won’t tolerate a Squib in my family. She’ll be out on her ear faster than you can say ‘Jack Sprat’ if I ever find out she’s lied.”

Severus raised his book and tried to drown the man out with internal dialogue. Instead, he found himself reading the same sentence over and over without comprehending a single word. All he could think was, Filch made free with any witch he could, according to him, without regard for her ancestry. It was all the same to Severus. If he didn’t want a Squib for an offspring, he had better keep his trousers fastened.

“So, what do you think, Steph? Pureblood? Or is Muggle-born your preference?”

Severus glared at him over the top of his book.

“Or, do you prefer something a bit different?”

Filch’s eyes had gone to slits. Severus matched him.

“You haven’t met the women on our floor yet, have you?”

“Not yet. No.”

“Do you plan to?”

Severus laid his book down on his desk and stood up. “I believe I’ll see to that now, Filch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was just setting along the horizon when Severus entered the gallery. Apprentices hurried along, talking in twos or in groups, or mumbling to themselves. Only one person wasn’t in a rush. Severus stopped by the hallway entrance to watch her.

He must have seen her at the witches’ table at some point, but he couldn’t recall her. She was curled up on the cushion of the stone window seat, her finely-boned elbow resting on the ledge, her delicate chin propped against her dainty hand as she gazed out toward the Quidditch pitch. Her black hair was cut short and curved under in a style of the times. The sides of her hair nearest to her face curled forward, and she was turned in such a way, that he couldn’t see her features.

She wore the usual black robe, the witches’ shorter sleeves revealing the lower sleeves and cuffs of her white blouse, and her long neck was still exposed above the high collar, which was buttoned all the way. Her skirt in shades of brown spilled out below the hem of her robe. The fashion was to wear the skirts below the knee, but this witch had her feet curled under her so he could only catch a glimpse of her calf as it peeked through the layers of material. She seemed serenely composed as the last rays of the sun placed her in relief.

She must have felt him watching her because she turned her head and looked him in the eye. His heart plunged, then began to beat as if it had resurrected from the dead.

Her skin was white and flawless against the blackness of her hair, with only the faintest hint of blush about her cheeks. Her eyes were large and vulnerable, and coloured golden green. Her mouth was straight, her lips a bit too thin. But set in her face, wide at the eye and tapering to a narrow but not pointed chin, they were perfect.

Her hand was forgotten, still holding itself above the sill; her body was wound as though she would look out at the grounds again. She was a vision frozen in time, she was exquisite.

She held his gaze for a moment, then her mouth trembled with the shadow of a smile. Her eyes were trusting. Severus composed himself and strolled over to her. A part of him warned that she was not as she appeared, but he would not heed it. He looked down into her upturned face and nearly smiled back.

“You’re new here,” she said, rising from the cushion gracefully and shyly extending her hand. “My name is Minerva McGonagall.”

He took her hand, which seemed very soft and small. “Sss... Stephanus. Adelbert Stephanus.” McGonagall?

Her mouth lifted, revealing more of her smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Stephanus.”

“The pleasure is mine... Miss McGonagall.”

Her smile, though wider now, still didn’t reach her eyes. They were calm and sober. The hint of the staid, composed professor was about her already. Severus was transfixed.

“What is your discipline, Mr. Stephanus?”

“Potions. And yours?”

“Transfiguration. I don’t recall you from the Academy?”

“I was schooled at home.”

She looked sympathetic. “That must have been very lonely.”

“There were several of us in the district. We went to each others’ homes, as our parents all had different strengths.”

“How convenient. Are any of your companions here?”

“No. I’m the only one.”

She pursed her lips, still smiling, and lowered her eyes. Her cheeks plumped just enough to redden them a little. “It’s a lovely evening,” she said, her head tilting, her eyes lifting to his again, “Would you care to take a walk?”

“I’d be delighted.”

He offered her his arm and she rested her hand lightly on his sleeve. They went out to the garden.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus was amazed that he was so attracted to McGonagall. He hadn’t cared for her at school. Of course, that was nearly forty years into the future, people changed. He couldn’t imagine the prim Transfiguration professor ever looking vulnerable.

“That’s one for the books,” Filch smirked, “You and the Frost Princess. Me-ow! Let me know if she thaws out.”

“I don’t see why you call her that. She’s perfectly agreeable.” Severus re-tied the bow tie that all wizard apprentices were required to wear. He hated the thing. It choked him.

“She’s polite, but she’s cold. Frigid as an iceberg. Watch her eyes sometime. You’ll see.”

“And you are seeing..?”

Filch smirked and mentioned a name Severus had heard of as a witch who ‘would’. Filch would, too, but that was all. Her lineage was mixed. And Filch preferred a Pureblood.

“Going out?”

“Yes.” Severus pulled his jacket on and gave his shoes one last polish against the leg of his trousers.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A couple of hours, maybe more. Why?”

Filch mentioned the questionable witch again and leered.

Severus suppressed a scowl. He definitely did not like Filch. The man was depraved. If McGonagall threw her clothes off and danced naked on a table in the middle of the Three Broomsticks, which was where he was taking her, Filch would never hear it from him. He leaned into the mirror one last time and ran a brush over his hair. He wished he knew how McGonagall got hers so soft and silky. He wondered if he might be able to feel it sometime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dumbledore had given Severus an allowance, which surprised him. Apparently, the winning purse was larger than he’d imagined. He offered to pay the money back, but Dumbledore only smiled and waved him off, admonishing him to have some fun.

McGonagall was waiting in the entrance hall. As a second year apprentice, he could leave the grounds before the other newcomers, who had to remain behind for six weeks. McGonagall had begun her apprenticeship in the winter term the year before, as her birthday was in October.

That system was strange to Severus. Children born during the fall term began school after Christmas, children born in the winter months began in the spring, spring and summer children started in the fall. Summer was the only time when the school did not welcome new students.

“Are you ready?” he asked unnecessarily.

She smiled and took his arm.

Halfway to Hogsmeade, they were passed by a group of apprentices, some witches, some wizards, laughing and talking. A few of them mewed as they hurried by.

“What was that about?” Severus asked.

McGonagall tilted her head. “I suppose I ought to tell you before someone else does. I’m an Animagus. I change into a cat.”

“Oh?” Severus recalled his first day in Transfiguration when she had displayed her talent. “Is that bad?”

“It’s unusual. So they make comments. Do you know any Animagi?”

“A couple.”

“Really!” Her brows shot up. “Your district sounds very interesting.”

He smirked. “I know a werewolf, too.”

“And you’re still alive?”

“Barely. I found out,” he sighed, “at the wrong time.”

She tightened her grip on his arm protectively. “That must have been terrifying!”

“It was. One of the boys who arranged the ‘surprise’ changed his mind and saved me.”

“He shouldn’t have arranged it to begin with.”

“No, but that’s over with. He’s married now, and from what I hear, he’s a decent enough man.” Severus didn’t want to talk about the Marauders.

“I should hope so. After doing such a thing! I’m glad you weren’t injured... You weren’t, were you?”

“No.”

“I’m glad.”

They had come to a copse of trees. McGonagall stopped and looked up at the sky, the evening light showing up the green in her eyes. “Would you like to see me transform?”

“Yes. I would.”

She removed her hand from his arm and was suddenly a cat standing on the ground beside him. She stretched, then wound against his leg. He felt her purring through the wool of his trousers and reached down to pet her.

She transformed again, and he found himself holding her low on her back.

She didn’t object. She ran her fingers down his lapels, then looked into his eyes. “What do you think?”

“You’re a very pretty cat.”

She bowed her head so her forehead touched his chest. “Thank you.”

He wasn’t sure when she moved closer, or if he had moved instead. She raised her head, stretching her long neck. “Why, Mr. Stephanus! Are you embracing me?”

He was. They gazed into each others’ eyes. There was no one about. She blinked encouragingly. He bent to kiss her.

It might have been the moon, which was a sliver in the sky, or it could have been the shadow of the trees. Severus enjoyed the kiss, and took another. She moved her fingers over the back of his neck.

“We should be going,” he said.

She looked around. “I suppose we should.”

He couldn’t help it. He kissed her one last time. Imagine kissing McGonagall and liking it!

“You’re very forward, Mr. Stephanus.”

“Call me Bert. For tonight,” he hastened to add.

“Bert.” She tasted his name. “All right, Bert. Then you should call me Minerva.” She touched his shirt. “For tonight.”

He wrapped his fingers around hers and moved her hands away. “We really ought to go.”

“Yes, we ought to.”

They hesitated, then walked on.


	3. With Friends

  
Author's notes: Professor Dumbledore works unsuccessfully on a counter-spell; the first term continues.  
~Characters, names, world, everything, belong to JK Rowling and those designated by her to publish or otherwise reproduce Harry Potter etc. for profit.  


* * *

* * *

Albus Dumbledore wrote a note to himself and tied it to a rock. He sat the rock on his desk in front of a concave silver bowl. He aimed his wand at the shinny surface and called for a retarding spell. Then immediately invoked an acceleration spell. The first spell had just bounced off the mirrored surface as the second spell came in. They collided and the rock disappeared. He made a note on a parchment and began again.

It was the second week of his experiments. September was nearly over and he needed to make progress. He wasn’t sure at all that ‘Mr. Stephanus’ was good for Minerva.

From what Stephanus had said, he was hardly an upstanding person. He had participated in attacks against decent people, not only in defence of his lord, but as the aggressor as well. He used his knowledge of potions and the Dark Arts to attempt to place an evil man into power. He had said he’d grown disillusioned with the rhetoric, yet he’d participated in at least one more attack.

Minerva McGonagall was a sweet, lovely girl who deserved better. She deserved a good, upstanding man. She deserved a man who would stay with her, one who would protect her from the world. She didn’t need Adelbert Stephanus, or as he was rightly called, Severus Snape.

Albus looked sadly at the bare spot on his desk which had been launching note-tied rocks into what he hoped was the not-too-distant future, and sighed. The not-too-distant future was becoming more and more distant with each day a rock refused to appear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus had been pondering over McGonagall between visits with her, all weekend. What had happened Friday night? They hadn’t even gotten into Hogsmeade, let alone into the pub, and she was offering to kiss him?

He had run through the self-scathing explanations Saturday morning. She felt sorry for him. She’d had a few in her room before ever leaving the castle. She was going blind. It was dark. She was on the rebound. Changing so quickly into a cat and back again had made her want to ‘cat around’ with anything (stress on thing) available. She obviously hadn’t heard what people said about him. She had heard what people said about him and meant to disprove it.

He reached up and ran his fingers down his greasy hair. It was a major problem in the nineteen seventies. Girls didn’t like it. No matter that he’d tried everything short of quitting Potions, and he wasn’t going to do that. Oddly enough, in the nineteen thirties, men purposely greased their hair to make it lay flat. It seemed to be a matter of style, and the lack of a non-greasy product.

That was how far he had come since his return from Hogsmeade. From wondering why she had kissed him against the odds, to musing about the state of men’s hair-care products between two very different decades.

Still, she had kissed him. Three times, though that last time had been more him than her. She hadn’t slapped him, zapped him, or walked away.

By Sunday morning, he was analysing each step, which made him lean toward, and then away from, the cat theory. On the cat side, she hadn’t gotten so close nor acted so familiar, until after she had transfigured. Cats had a reputation for accepting just about any other cat who moved, during certain times. He qualified as anything that moved in her species range. Ergo, circumstantial evidence in favour.

Against: She hadn’t transfigured when she had gone into the copse and asked him if he wanted to see her change. If the cat theory had validation, and he didn’t know if it did, then she had deliberately placed herself into a position to utilise it.

Which led back to the question of why.

Which led back to more self-depreciation: She’d had to force herself to kiss him by transfiguring, since he was so completely grotesque otherwise.

By Sunday afternoon, he had begun to examine their friendship from the beginning, taking even Filch’s comments into account. Why had she invited him over to her in the beginning, with that vulnerable smile? McGonagall was a competent woman, even now. Severus had come to the conclusion that she knew exactly what she was doing at every step.

So, why?

Why had she been sitting alone? No one had even ‘meowed’ at her as everyone else hurried past. Was she merely lonely? That would go a long way toward explaining things. He thought about his own school days, when the only people who accepted him had been future Death Eaters. He had wanted to please them, and was happy when he actually did. It made him want to please them more, which had indeed pleased them more, though not every time, which had only made him try harder, and on down a descending spiral. He still thought of most of them as his friends, people he needed to please, even while disagreeing with them.

So, possibly, she had seen him as someone who didn’t know anything about her yet or he wouldn’t have been watching her. He was someone she could favourably impress without the burden of prior acquaintance.

Moving on. Once she had seen that he was favourably impressed, she determined to work at the favourable impression.

Though, this was where he stumbled. She was too self-assured. She didn’t need his approval. Yet, it did seem to worry her that he might think less of her for being an Animagus. If she was insecure, she was secure in the insecurity, as she was secure in all things as a woman nearing sixty when he’d known her first.

He liked his potions. There were always clear explanations for them.

So, accepted: He had been a potential friend. Unproved: The reasons she continued to see him.

“Still staring at the wall?” Filch asked, breezing through the door. “I see she hasn’t chased you away yet.”

Severus squinted at his roommate with annoyance. “What are you going on about?”

“The Frost Princess. She hasn’t chased you away.”

“Why do you call her the Frost Princess?”

“Because she’ll take you in so far, then you run up against a wall of ice. You can’t go any farther.”

“I haven’t seen that.”

“You haven’t gone in far enough, then.”

Filch sat down on his bed and changed his shoes. He did that every afternoon. The shoes he changed into were identical to the shoes he wore to his classes, yet he did it every day.

“Have you tried to get a kiss yet?”

“No. We haven’t known each other long enough.”

“Maybe that’s it. You’re a slow-moving ice floe yourself.”

“Is that what this is all about? She won’t let you go as far as you’d like?”

Filch only grunted.

So, McGonagall had principles, as well as good taste.

Filch was settling onto his bed, his stack of Charms books littering the floor. His grunt had been promising. Maybe he’d keep his mouth shut.

“Are you going to try and kiss her?”

“Not today.”

“Well, at least you aren’t making some fantastic boast. Some fellows...”

Severus started collecting his things while Filch rambled on. He left the room and headed to the library.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albus had sent two more rocks into the future, then sat down to wait. He needed to know how far each rock had gone, in order to discover how to send Stephanus, er, Snape, back to his own time. It wouldn’t help him to send him into Buck Rogers. He needed to get back as near to the time he left, without overlapping.

That was why he’d addressed his notes to himself. Anyone at Hogwarts who found one would bring it to him, no matter where he was.

That is, if he was still alive. Albus leaned back in his chair and watched his desk. There was always Grindelwald to think about. They had their differences, and they both knew that only one of them could live, if even one could make it. It was likely that both of them would die.

If it saved even one student from falling prey to the rogue wizard, then his death would be worth it. But, would his sacrifice prevent anything? Was everything fated?

Albus rejected that. Certain things may be. But if he accepted that some students were fated to fall into Grindelwald’s clutches, then he had to reject the idea of self-determination. And he would not reject that ideal.

He glanced up just as Stephanus was walking by. “Mr. Stephanus!” he called.

Stephanus returned and looked in. “Yes, Professor?”

Albus motioned him in. “Sit down. I would like to speak to you.”

Stephanus eyed the silver bowl, then turned his attention back to Albus. He was polite enough, but manners could hide so much! He was forward, too, more-so than the other apprentices. Albus wondered if that was the way of the future, or if Stephanus was just different.

He was certainly patient! Albus shook off his thoughts. “I would like to talk to you about Lord Grindelwald.”

The brows collapsed over Stephanus’s dark eyes. “Sir?”

“I realise that you served a different master. But, there are some things which may be similar. It would be foolish of me to say that the students are my only concern. Because each student will eventually leave Hogwarts to become witches and wizards in their own rights. These are the people we see as following Dark Lords, such as Grindelwald, and your... Voldemort, was it? Yet, there must be something in the student which presages the adult, if you follow my line of thought.”

“You want to know why I became a Death Eater.”

“Is that what you’re called?” Horrible name! “Not so much why you did become one, but why you considered it.”

“Because I agree with the stated premise.”

“You _agreed_?” Albus stressed the past tense.

“No, sir. I agree. However, the stated premise is only a diversion. Cosmetic, if you will. What the Dark Lord wants is to rule absolutely and without question. He is a very powerful wizard. There are few who are as powerful. He has the means, and the ambition. If I remained with him, I would probably enjoy some fruits of my labours. Not as many as those above me, but I would have some, while those who did not follow, would have nothing.”

“And those who oppose him?”

“Torture. Eventual death.”

“And those who betray him?”

“Greater torture. Madness. Possibly death, though that might be too much of a relief to be allowed.”

“You followed a message which was attractive to you, without any thought for what you might get in return?”

Stephanus smirked. “I wouldn’t refuse a reward.”

“Allow me a guess. You were in Slytherin?”

He inclined his head.

“Trying to get ahead, trying to better yourself, trying to... What? How can joining in a group and promoting this leader give any individual benefit?”

“It can’t.”

“How have you been bettered?”

“My abilities have increased.”

“Is that all?”

“Unfortunately. There are too many above me.”

“Why not kill them?”

Stephanus shook his head.

“Wouldn’t that do the world a favour?”

“How very Gryffindor. Sir.” A smirk.

“Do you and I get along in the future?”

“I believe there is some reserve.”

Albus nodded. There was reserve enough between them now. “Thank you, Steph... er, Severus. I won’t detain you any longer.”

Stephanus was examining the silver bowl again, careful not to touch it. “Might I ask, professor, why this is here?”

“I’ve been trying out some spells, or some angles of spells, to try and get you back to your own time.”

“How has it worked?”

“It hasn’t.”

Stephanus paused in the doorway. “I thought you had a time-turner.”

Albus shook his head. Stephanus left.

A rock shimmered into existence on the launching pad. Albus reached forward eagerly and tore the note from it.

_Give it up, you old coot! It isn’t going to work. Get yourself a time-turner,  
before the Ministry of Magic begins to restrict them.  
APWBD 7 February, 1947_

Albus laid the parchment from his future self aside. He would have to get a time-turner. Two people had agreed he should.

He sighed. He still couldn’t see a way through to defeating Grindelwald.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus was walking quickly through the halls, on his way to the apprentices’ quarters. He looked over his shoulder when he heard someone calling.

“Mr. Stephanus!” Lupin repeated, and ran along the hall to catch up.

“Did you need something, Mr. Lupin?”

“Not really. I just thought I’d walk with you. You walk fast,” he observed, adjusting his pace.

Since Lupin had sped up, Severus saw no reason to slow down. He was anxious to get his books to his room before Filch decided to saunter in.

“What are you doing this Friday night?” Lupin asked as they rounded the corner to their hall in a wide arc.

“I hadn’t thought.”

“Davis and I wondered if you would like to go to the Three Broomsticks with us.”

Severus opened his door and invited Lupin inside. “Is there some occasion?”

“Wizards together. Unless you have other plans?” Lupin leaned on the bureau rakishly and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “We’ll completely understand if you would prefer gentler company.”

Severus looked at Lupin. Then he understood. “You mean Miss McGonagall?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t believe we have plans.”

“You haven’t had a girlfriend outside of your district, have you?” Lupin grinned, “Otherwise you’d ask her if the two of you have plans.”

“Is she like that?”

“She’s subtle, but, yes.”

“Have you dated her?”

Lupin’s face stretched. “My, no! Date McGonagall?”

“Surely someone must have!”

“Once-hale and hearty men, broken forevermore. She can be very, well, manly at times. She prefers to wear the trousers.”

Severus raised a brow. “Does she? When does she reveal this tendency?”

“You haven’t noticed it yet?”

Severus merely watched Lupin.

“She’s a charming witch, and a loyal friend. But, she likes to be in charge.”

“How long have you known her?”

“Since her first year. She’s two terms below me.”

“She seems competent.”

“She is. Surely that is not what attracts you!”

“Filch calls her the Frost Princess.”

“Filch got slapped for his troubles.” Lupin grinned. “Have you?”

“No. Since I haven’t taken the trouble.”

“Ahem!”

Lupin’s elbow slid off the bureau top and he turned around, his hair falling in front of his eyes again. Severus peered around Lupin. McGonagall was in the doorway.

“Mr. Stephanus. You know that it’s a sin to lie.”

Severus smirked. “Believe me, Miss McGonagall, it was no trouble.”

“And, you didn’t get slapped.”

“Well!” Lupin looked between them, a grin on his face.

McGonagall was smirking at him. Severus narrowed his eyes. If she wanted to play, he would oblige her. “Lupin, why don’t you invite Miss McGonagall along?”

“But, she... but... ah...”

“She’s easily up for the walk. And I believe her birthday is next week.”

“I’ll have to speak to Davis.”

“Wait. Where were you planning on taking me, before you bother Mr. Davis?”

“Just down to the Three Broomsticks, Friday evening.”

“If Mr. Davis is agreeable then I should very much like to go. If he isn’t, then the two of you,” she nodded toward Severus and Lupin, “owe me an outing next Friday.”

“Why not this Saturday?” Severus smirked.

“Very well. Though I imagine three young wizards out without constraints might not feel up to going out the very next night.”

Lupin rested his fists on his hips. “I can assure you, Miss McGonagall, I shall be as ready as ever on Saturday night, should I crawl into the castle at dawn on Saturday morning. In fact, I think we should make Saturday a definite no matter what Davis says.”

“Agreed.” McGonagall lifted her chin.

“Agreed,” said Severus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the fact that this was Romulus and not Remus Lupin, Severus had secret reservations about spending two nights of the full moon with him. His brush with the younger Lupin was still vivid in his mind. And, there were werewolves farther south in England, though they were all supposedly at St. Mungo’s.

Professor Strobe had given Severus the assignment of making up the potion which would be used to treat them. As with all werewolf potions, this one involved wolf’s bane as the main ingredient. Severus knew it was a hopeless cause. They had never figured out a way to treat the condition, let alone to cure it.

Professor Strobe, who preferred his apprentices to call him ‘Miles’, set the rest to work, then came over to watch Severus.

“Stephanus?”

“Yes, master?”

“Miles. I was just wondering, Adelbert. Is your surname Greek?”

“No, master.”

“Miles. I don’t think I know the name.”

“I am not familiar with its etymology, master.”

“Miles. It sounds Greek.”

Severus dropped three shavings of catmint into the mixture and Strobe leaned over to watch the reaction.

“Very good. Very nice. You’ll be an excellent potions master yourself one day.”

“Thank you, master.”

“Miles. It is a pity about these souls. I thought werewolves had been confined to a preserve in the Transvaal. Yet, these people were attacked while on holiday in Germany.”

“Is there any chance that someone who was attacked did not go for treatment?”

Strobe sighed. “There is always that chance. Shame, denial, or merely the lack of knowledge of where to go. If a Muggle was attacked, imagine! He, or she, would never get the help they need. And so the cycle would begin here, until they were tracked down and removed.”

Severus finished his batch and presented it to the master for inspection.

“A particle less catmint next time. Otherwise, perfect.”

“What, precisely, will this potion do?”

“It will do very little, I’m afraid. The potions masters connected with St. Mungo’s are trying to refine this potion so it will render the werewolf docile during the full moon, but they have not succeeded as of yet. The werewolf will only become disoriented, making an attack less likely, but attacks will still occur unless they are confined. I’m afraid that a cure is impossible at this time.” He shook his head. “Nothing but moondust. Well, you had better start on another batch. You may make more of it this time. Judging by this potion, you know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you, master.”

“Miles. Carry on.”

Severus began to measure out the first ingredients again. It was too bad it had taken the potions masters at St. Mungo’s so long to come up with something. They had only begun tests on a potion in Severus’s own time. What would Remus Lupin have been like if he hadn’t been a werewolf?


	4. Pastime

  
Author's notes: Severus spends an evening with friends in Hogsmeade, but have trouble on the way back to the castle.  
~Characters, names, world, everything, belong to JK Rowling and those designated by her to publish or otherwise reproduce Harry Potter etc. for profit.  


* * *

* * *

Davis had gone along on Friday, but had begged off for Saturday, preferring the company of his girlfriend instead. So at dusk on Saturday night, Severus, McGonagall and Lupin stepped out of the castle in their blazers and light coats, and started into Hogsmeade.

“Isn’t the moon lovely?” McGonagall said as they caught sight of it around the bend from the castle.

It was still riding low in the sky, large and golden on the horizon. Severus cast a covert glance at Lupin. He was looking at it full in the face, and not transforming.

He was, however, not as taken by its appearance as McGonagall was. He frowned. When McGonagall walked on, he held Severus back a second, so they were walking behind her.

“Did you know that there are werewolves in England?”

“I’ve been working on a potion for them. Why? How do you know?”

“We’ve been growing a lot more wolf’s bane this year.”

“Are you two coming?” McGonagall called back.

They hastened their pace and caught up with her, each taking a side.

“I can go back to the castle, if the two of you wish to share secrets.”

“No, it was just something I forgot to mention to Stephanus earlier.”

McGonagall took Severus’s arm and they left the castle grounds. The road was frosted in moonlight. McGonagall moved closer.

An owl hooted from a tree. Lupin’s head shot up before he realised what it was. He was very jumpy, Severus thought.

They spent two hours at the pub, munching on pretzels and drinking lightly, since they had gone out the night before and a galleon only went so far. Lupin and McGonagall played at darts, Lupin only narrowly beating her. Severus wasn’t convinced that she hadn’t given him the game.

“Have you heard about the wizard known as Lord Grindelwald?” McGonagall asked casually over coffee later on.

“Er, McGonagall,” Lupin said, not quite looking at Severus.

“Yes. I’ve heard of him.”

“What do you think of him?”

Her voice was conversational, but low. Severus replied in kind. “I believe he deliberately misleads his converts, until they cannot leave him. If you’re asking what I think of Muggle-borns, that is a different matter.”

“You don’t care for them?”

“I wouldn’t marry one. Otherwise, I see no harm.”

“What if you fell in love?” McGonagall leaned on her arms.

“If I fell in love, I would expect to behave irrationally.”

“And, perhaps end up with a Muggle-born wife?”

Severus smirked at her. “How did we get from this Dark Lord to my marriage?”

Lupin bit into a hard pretzel.

“I just thought I’d follow what you’d said. That’s all. I take it from what you said, that you don’t approve of him?”

“I don’t care for anyone who would set himself up as ruler without due process.”

“But, his followers...”

“His followers are probably a minority of the population no matter how many agree with his position on Muggle-borns.”

“Shh.”

Lupin was watching the bar. Severus and McGonagall turned slightly. Filch and some men Severus had never seen, were taking up their drinks and moving toward the fireplace.

“How’s your father?” Lupin asked McGonagall as the group drew near.

“Very well. Thank you, Mr. Lupin. And yours?” A playful look came into her eye. “How is your brother?”

“That pest?” Lupin smiled in spite of what he’d said. “Doing very well. I’ll tell him you asked. You know they have a daughter now?”

“I thought they had a son.”

Filch caught Severus’s eye. “Evening, Steph. Lupin. Miss McGonagall.”

Severus raised his glass. McGonagall nodded coldly. Lupin’s head bobbed.

“Their son is two years old already. The daughter was born in August.”

Filch and his crowd took seats on the benches by the fireplace.

“Let’s be plain, Bert. If you had to choose sides, which would you choose?”

Both she and Lupin were waiting. “I would not get involved with the Dark Lord,” he replied with some residual regret, “There is too much to lose.”

“His followers are active in the area,” McGonagall said.

Severus glanced over at the crowd by the fireplace. Lupin nodded.

“They’ve infiltrated the school and the Academy, and are actively seeking converts, as you called them.”

Severus thought back to his days in Slytherin, when the older Lucius Malfoy had talked in glowing terms about the Dark Lord and his work. It would hardly be any different now.

“They aren’t even old enough to know their own minds!”

“No, they aren’t,” he agreed.

“We really must go to the Academy floors, talk to them, tell them how it really is. They’re so young,” McGonagall said urgently.

“They wouldn’t listen. They’ll hear what they want, and reject anything that goes against it. And, you’d be putting yourself in danger. If they think you’re trying to dissuade new members from joining them, they’ll do anything they can to get you out of the way. Don’t do it.”

“Don’t you care about them?” McGonagall asked.

She was getting overwrought. Severus leaned back, keeping an eye on the group around the fireplace. “Whether I care or not has nothing to do with it. They’ll be more likely to join if they think they’re tweaking your nose. If you don’t want that sort of thing to happen, you’ll leave the students to their instructors and their Heads of House.”

“What about the other students? The ones who don’t wish to join?”

“Are they forcing people to follow them?”

“No.” Lupin had finally entered the conversation.

“But, they’re training these children! They’re grooming them!”

Lupin shrugged. “Only the ones who want to join.”

“Would anyone like more coffee?” Severus asked.

They both looked at him blankly.

“If not, then I suggest we leave.” He flicked a glance at Filch and his group, who were speaking together in low tones.

Lupin was suddenly guarded. “I don’t think I could manage anything else, thank you, Stephanus. Miss McGonagall?”

She looked from one to the other, then rose. They both stood with her.

The night was cold, the air, frosty. The three walked close together as much to share warmth as to share confidences. The moon was a high, gleaming dot behind them now.

“Are you certain Filch is involved?”

“No one’s certain who belongs. But it’s becoming evident that we’ll have to fight them.” Lupin shivered, then sneezed.

“If anyone is vulnerable to the Dark Lord’s message, it would be Filch.”

Severus kept looking behind them. He didn’t trust the group he had seen. They were far too familiar to him, and McGonagall had gotten progressively louder as she’d talked. He was ready for an ambush.

“Lupin, your wand. Minerva, yours, too.”

“You don’t think..!”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

Lupin was watching the trees along the roadside. “Well, if not, at least we’re prepared.”

They were nearing the border of the school. The low field wall beside them would soon end and the higher wall of the school would begin. If they could make it to that wall, there would be less chance of their enemies overtaking them. It took more to climb over a wall where Apparating was forbidden, than it would to climb a low field fence.

They were nearly to the schoolground’s wall when a spell streaked past Severus’s leg and hit the dirt in front of them.

“Stop and turn around.”

Hardly impressive. They should have asked for their wands first. Severus turned slowly with Lupin and McGonagall and saw the enemy for the first time.

There was nothing new again. They wore black hooded masks over their heads and faces, and long black gowns. There were five of them, all armed and ready. Severus waited for one to twitch.

When he did, Severus knocked his wand out of his hand. Another man stepped forward and tried to disarm Severus. He blocked the spell.

“What are you doing?” McGonagall asked him, “There are five of them...”

“And only one of me.” His voice bit into her words as he slashed at the middle man, who was aiming for McGonagall.

“Expelliarmus!” Lupin roared, disarming another of the attackers.

“Block!” Severus commanded.

Lupin blocked. A pale green spell bounced off his wand, then bounced off the school’s wall harmlessly. Impervious charm, Severus thought.

If Grindelwald hoped to take over the Wizarding World with followers like these, he deserved to be defeated. The short one had to have his wand accio’d by his companions three times since the fight began, and McGonagall had only just entered the battle.

Severus was pleasantly surprised. Lupin and McGonagall knew their defensive moves very well. While McGonagall didn’t actually appear to be fighting, she was every bit as useful as Lupin, and as Severus himself. Despite her full, swishing skirt and pumps, she moved gracefully, like the cat she could become. Between the three of them, they soon had their assailants at the disadvantage.

But, nothing the five did was lastingly harmful. Stunning spells, hexes, even a jinx had been thrown. Severus was aching to place the second to the tallest man under the Crucio.

Lupin seemed to know what he had in mind. “Not now,” he said, edging next to Severus’s shoulder. “We don’t want them to know just yet.”

Severus didn’t understand the cryptic message, but he nudged Lupin with his shoulder to show he’d go along.

“We’ll Apparate to the gates,” Lupin continued in a whisper, “...Now!”

There was a pop behind them as McGonagall Apparated. Lupin glanced quickly at Severus. Severus sent one last disarming spell at the small one, then popped out of sight and appeared before the gates of the school.

“Hurry!” McGonagall called, motioning him inside. In another two seconds, Lupin arrived and ran onto the grounds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Filch came back after Severus had gone to bed. He wasn’t asleep, though, he had been laying awake just to see how Filch behaved when he came in. He was angry, Severus could tell. He grumbled to himself and scowled at everything. Then he slipped a package into his wardrobe and started dressing for bed.

He had only gotten his shoes off when he noticed, rather than saw, Severus ‘sleeping’ in his bed. He grew quiet, then leaned over, looking Severus in the eye.

“You’re awake.”

“You’re late.”

“I was detained.” The leer he tried to adopt came out sour. “Did you and Lupin enjoy your evening?”

“Yes, Lupin, Miss McGonagall and I had an enjoyable time. And you?”

“Enjoyable.”

“Good. Could you douse the lights when you get to bed? Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus had been hovering near the witches’ hallway when McGonagall came out, dressed for a walk in the chilly air, and headed right over to him. He offered her his arm. They walked down the stairs and out into the crisp October morning.

“I’m surprised you’re not avoiding me,” she said as they wandered in the deserted garden.

“Should I avoid you?”

“After last night?”

“What about last night?”

“Some wizards feel threatened when a witch takes an active role in defence.”

“Aren’t there any witches who are Aurors?”

“Yes. Still, it’s an attitude many wizards adopt. Particularly the Purebloods.”

“Particularly the more well-off Purebloods. Of course, they have something against any of their own working at any menial task.”

“You know what I mean. Many wizards feel threatened by a strong witch.”

“Do you think I should feel threatened by you?” he smirked down at her.

They had wandered into a narrow section of the path, bordered by tall, boxy hedges on either side. It was the perfect place for an ambush, Severus noted.

“Do you?” She stopped.

“Feel threatened by you? No. I’d have felt more threatened if you hadn’t helped last night. There were, after all, five of them.”

“Bert?”

He was very aware of their isolation. Her use of the sobriquet made it even more arresting. He was very tempted to take advantage of the situation. He stroked her cheek. “Yes?”

She seemed to hesitate. “Perhaps you should talk to Professor Dumbledore about last night’s attack.”

“Why?”

“Are you against Grindelwald and his people?”

“Yes.”

“Would you fight them?”

“If they attack me, yes. I would.”

“I know that. I saw you last night. But, would you actively fight against them even if they didn’t attack you personally?”

“You mean, join some sort of organised resistance?”

She took his fingers in her hand and held them away from her face. “Would you?”

“Are you saying there might be one?”

“There might be. Newton’s law. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. So, yes, I imagine there is some sort of resistance.”

“And, Professor Dumbledore may have heard of it?”

“It couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would.”

They were very close again. She stepped back into the high, well-trimmed hedge behind her and arched. Severus slipped his arm into the small of her back and stepped away from the hedge with her. She smiled, her eyes downcast.

“Branch,” she explained.

“A very accommodating branch.”

“It is Sunday morning, Mr. Stephanus, and I fear we shall be late to chapel.”

“We’ve another hour before chapel, Miss McGonagall.”

“So we have.” A slow smile curled her mouth. Her eyes flashed green and gold and Severus felt the same as he had the first day he had seen her. He was able to hide that weakness, but he couldn’t refuse the offer. He bent his head to kiss her.

Her lips parted in surprise, and he took advantage of the situation.

“Mr. Stephanus!” she gasped a moment later when he released her. She patted her hair, which had been disturbed by his arm, but made no move to retaliate.

They walked farther. The bushes gave way to low-growing autumn flowers, their tall heads nodding by the path. McGonagall picked one and threaded it through the buttonhole of his lapel. He picked one and put it in her hair.

“That was a very... interesting thing you did back there.” McGonagall licked her lips. “You took me quite off my guard.”

“You should never be off your guard.”

“Not around you!”

“I’m the least of your dangers.”

“I disagree.”

They turned down a path leading behind the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several more rocks had appeared on Albus’s desk. He read the notes, each one telling him to get a time-turner, and signed with his own initials and in his own hand.

At least he knew he was alive into the nineteen fifties. The latest note had come from September of nineteen fifty-six. What he had done, if anything, about Grindelwald, though, he couldn’t tell.

“Professor?”

Albus turned. “Ah. Lupin. Come in. Sit down.” He took his box out of his drawer and offered the man a lemon drop.

Lupin put it in his mouth.

“I’ve asked you to come here, because of Mr. Stephanus. Miss McGonagall believes he may wish to join us, if given the chance. You see quite a bit of him, and you have no romantic attachment to him.”

Lupin grinned in that boyish way of his, and Albus wondered that McGonagall hadn’t fallen for him instead of the darker, quieter Severus.

“No, I’ve no romantic attachment. Stephanus. I couldn’t really say. He was helpful in our encounter the other night. A good fighter. He seems not to trust Lord Grindelwald or his people. Yet, he says he agrees to some extent with the Pureblood message.”

“Not wishing to marry outside of one’s own kind is hardly a condemnation. And he didn’t extend his preference to include anyone but himself.”

Lupin sucked on the lemon drop, switching it to the opposite side of his mouth as he thought. “I can’t see where he’d join up with Grindelwald’s people, if that’s what you’re asking. But, I hardly know the man.”

“What do you think of his character?”

“I think he’s hiding something.”

“Oh?”

“It isn’t anything I can point to with certainty, but he’s reluctant to talk about his people. I get the impression he’s estranged from them somehow. And he doesn’t talk about himself. He may have said more to McGonagall than he has to me, they do spend quite a bit of time together.”

“He’s a very private man. I do know certain things about him which I doubt he would bring up, or mention if the subject came around to them. I have some knowledge of his grandfather, if that is any comfort.”

“I’ve never heard of the family.”

“That is to be expected. ‘Stephanus’ isn’t his real name.”

Lupin was only mildly surprised.

“I suggested the name myself. I have my reasons.”

“So he’s holding a secret which is already known to you?”

“Yes. I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention that, not even to Mr. Stephanus. What I want from you, Mr. Lupin, is an assessment of his character as you have come to know him.”

“I think he does what he needs to do. He has a passion for his subject. He’s very quiet, and apparently he can hold a secret. I like him well enough, but he isn’t a man one could know too easily.”

“Could you rely on him, do you think?”

Lupin considered again, rolling the dwindling sweet in his mouth. “Yes, I think I could. At the least, I would appreciate having him on my side in a fight. He knows his spells, and he takes direction. He also thinks ahead, and seems to have a sense of danger. It was on his advice that we had our wands drawn when we were attacked.”

Albus nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Lupin. I believe I’ll have a word with Mr. Stephanus.”

Lupin got up to leave. Another rock thudded down on the desk. Albus took the note, raised his brows, then handed it to Lupin.

_Albus, why on earth are you sending rocks to my desk? M. McGonagall_

Lupin handed the parchment back to Albus. “Why did you send Miss McGonagall a rock?”

Albus sighed. He wondered why Miss McGonagall had inherited his desk.


	5. In The Dark

  
Author's notes: Dumbledore asks Severus to bring him information. Severus discovers a link to Grindelwald. McGonagall remains a puzzle.  


* * *

* * *

Severus was restless. He sat at a table in the library, immobile but for his eyes and, occasionally, his fingers as he turned another page. McGonagall was browsing through the restricted section. He wanted her with him.

Patience.

_Damn_ patience!

Lupin had been right. She did want to wear the trousers. Severus rather liked the challenge. She went from beguiling waif to forceful witch and back again so quickly, he felt as if he’d been challenged in a duel. He didn’t doubt that her powers were formidable. But these were different powers than he had ever met before. Woman powers.

He frowned. Not a witch’s powers. Not magic. More of a Glamour.

She slid in across from him and opened her book. Severus settled in to actually absorb some of his text. He liked her where he could see her. It was always best to keep one’s adversary in sight.

They studied together silently until dinnertime, then they walked down to their rooms to put their books away. Severus hurried back to the main hall. She was out of sight again. He didn’t know what to expect when she appeared.

She was no different, which meant she was a threat. He offered her his arm and they walked down to the Great Hall.

Lupin had saved him a seat. Severus sat down and listened to Lupin and Davis arguing about the merits of their respective former Houses, since Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were set to play against each other the next day.

“Would you care to make a prediction?” Davis asked.

“Gryffindor, at just under an hour.”

“Your Seeker couldn’t find his nose in the centre of his face. Hufflepuff. One hour, forty minutes.”

“What say you, Stephanus?” Lupin asked, turning to him.

For once, Severus didn’t have to put House loyalties ahead of any other consideration. “Hufflepuff has the best team. But Gryffindor has the best Seeker.” That didn’t hurt too much. “I will say Gryffindor. But barely.”

“Very politic, Stephanus,” Davis said, “Since Lupin’s a closer friend.”

Severus hadn’t thought of it before, but Davis was right. This Lupin was his friend, or as much of a friend as he cared to have. Davis was merely a mealtime acquaintance.

“You know,” Lupin said, leaning across the table, “I don’t think he considered that.”

When Lupin leaned over, Severus had a clear view of the witches’ table. He saw McGonagall chatting with her friends. She turned her head and caught him watching. Then she turned away.

Davis glanced toward the witches’ table, too. “Perhaps not,” he said. He and Lupin grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus sat in Dumbledore’s office, waiting for the older wizard to arrive. The Dumbledore he had known from his own school days, knew everything that went on in his school. While he wasn’t headmaster now, Severus didn’t doubt that he knew what went on with his apprentices. And Miss McGonagall was his apprentice.

Dumbledore bustled in and sat his parchments on his desk. “I’m glad you’re here so soon, Mr. Stephanus. I would like to have a word with you before there is any chance for interruption.” The parchments were stacked neatly by the corner of the desk, then Dumbledore leaned forward. “This is about the attack you suffered the other night.”

Severus nodded evenly. He blanked his mind to any thought of McGonagall.

“I’ve heard from both Miss McGonagall and Mr. Lupin, that you were an asset in the fight.”

“We were all under attack.”

“Yes. Of course. You mentioned, when you first came to me, that I will have asked you to become a spy.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Dumbledore took a breath. “I find myself in the unique position of asking you to do the same for me now.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, sir. I do not belong to this Dark Lord’s ranks. Nor do I wish to.”

“Your roommate, Mr. Filch, may have been one of your attackers. You have the opportunity to find out how much he knows of Lord Grindelwald’s movements, and of his plans. You could discover what the local chapter of his organisation is up to, if you’re able to get him to talk.”

Severus remained outwardly passive, while inside he wished that Lupin had been his roommate instead.

“Even though you fought them off the other night, that would be understandable. As you say, you were under attack.”

“I doubt if Mr. Filch knows very much about the organisation. If he was indeed involved in the other night’s attack, these are not people the Dark Lord would be proud of having in his service. They were unprepared for us to fight back. They were poorly trained. That three of us were able to hold all of them, that they didn’t even try to surround us, that they seemed to have no plan...”

“I believe Mr. Filch and his friends are on the peripheries of the organisation. As you say, they are not the creme de la creme. But, I have no doubt they’re involved, though they may have tried to overstep their bounds since you were outnumbered.”

Severus nodded slowly. There were such people on the periphery of the Death Eaters, people who passed messages, people who watched, people who fancied themselves as more involved in the organisation than they really were.

“Could you do this for me?”

“I understand you have an organisation yourself?”

“Of a sort. We train interested apprentices and older students from the academy, in the methods best used to fight against this encroachment upon our way of life. Most of our members, if such a loose organisation could have members, go directly into Auror training once they leave the school.”

“Do you know if the Dark Lord has any more intimate members in this area?”

“We suspect that he does. Though, we don’t know who they are. I know beyond a doubt that they have infiltrated the school and the Academy. Filch may know who some of these people are.”

The questionable witch of Filch’s acquaintance came to Severus’s mind and he mentioned the name casually.

Dumbledore leaned forward. “Why do you mention her? She’s a half-blooded witch, hardly someone who would embrace the Pureblood message.”

“She may wish to prove her worth, to avoid being stigmatised, or shunned if this Dark Lord did win. If Filch has a contact, I would suggest her.”

“It could be something else entirely.”

“Yes, he gave something else as his reason for seeing her.”

“I don’t doubt it. Mr. Filch is very, er... libidinous.”

“Still, both can be accomplished at the same time. Though, he does go out quite often, and both Lupin and Miss McGonagall seemed to believe these people he sees in Hogsmeade are in some way connected to this Dark Lord.”

“Will you see what you can discover from him? And I will look into the young witch in question, myself.”

Severus agreed. Since he had to listen to Filch anyway, once the apprentices’ curfew had started.

“Good. Thank you, Mr. Stephanus.” Dumbledore rose to shake his hand.

As Severus was leaving, he heard a loud thud. He glanced back just before pulling the door shut behind him and saw Dumbledore removing a note from a rock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October mellowed and soon it was time for the Hallowe’en feast. Severus suffered through the decorations, pumpkins suspended over the tables in the Great Hall, black and orange crepe festooning the walls, a great sheaf of wheat in the entry hall that smelled of dryness and soil.

He suffered Filch’s ramblings as well, waiting for a gem to drop from the mud of the man’s mind. There were two possible indications, both of which were duly reported to Professor Dumbledore.

The questionable witch was still the most likely connection. He had seen her on several occasions, moving through the halls, talking to certain of the apprentices in an intimate manner. Since everyone thought of her as a slut, no one thought twice about who she saw or what she might be saying.

As November blew in bright and blustery, he found himself being given more and more intricate tasks in his lessons. Finally, his studies were a challenge. Knowing the exact amount of a powdered herb or the precise number of times to stir the thing became more and more important. He studied diligently, McGonagall often keeping him company in the library.

Professor Strobe was taking more of an interest in him personally. He asked questions about his family, about his early schooling, and about his thoughts and his beliefs.

“What do you think about the Dark Arts? Or did you study them at all?” the master asked one day.

Severus knew why he had asked. The particular potion he was working on involved several arcane references to Dark Arts practice which only someone well-schooled in them would know. There was a small body of prescriptions in the pharmaceutical, usually ones addressing mental illness, which incorporated Dark magic as part of their activation.

“I have studied them,” he replied.

Strobe watched him in silence as he came to a particularly delicate procedure. His deep blue eyes were slitted, his breath barely there. When Severus had passed that particular manoeuvre, he released his breath.

“I see your training has been extensive.”

“My father taught our Dark Arts classes, so I was around it quite a bit.”

“Is he a Potions master?”

Severus fixed his eyes on his master’s face. “No.”

The spiky brows moved slightly. “I see. Your father is a Pureblood?”

“Of course.”

“And, your mother?”

“Yes.”

Strobe was sounding him out. Severus filed and updated the information with each new question. He was beginning to suspect that Strobe was at least a supporter of Lord Grindelwald, if not a member of his circle.

“I have some other potions which need brewing, if you would care for some further training.”

Their eyes met. “I would welcome the opportunity, master.”

Strobe’s eyes settled on him just a moment too long. “See me after school, Mr. Stephanus.”

“Yes, master.”

 

The other potions were ones he knew well. Salves to heal magically-inflicted wounds, burning unguents, restoratives. Some would be rubbed on the skin to inflict pain, others would be ingested for the same results. Several were volatile mixtures that could severely and permanently maim. These resisted all but a few obsolete magical cures.

Severus knew better than to ask when he was given no explanation. Strobe was pleased. And so, Severus added an hour to his usual schedule.

Such tactics were common in his own world: draw someone in innocently at first, then draw them deeper, until they had no choice but to join or die because they knew too much. Carry a message, see a face, hear a secret, mix a potion. And as the person was drawn ever deeper, they didn’t realise until it was too late.

Severus realised before he sat at the work table that afternoon, alone with Strobe. And he knew, by the time he left, that Strobe was an integral part of Grindelwald’s organisation. Dumbledore was sure someone in the school was actively searching for recruits. Severus was sure he had found at least one who was.

Filch was already at his studies when Severus came in. He ignored his roommate and put his books on his desk, selecting the one Strobe had given him that afternoon. He already knew most of the things Strobe had discussed, but those concoctions only covered the first two chapters.

“Different book,” Filch sniffed.

“Special project.”

Filch squinted to see the title. Severus held the book so he couldn’t help but see. If Filch was a part of Grindelwald’s organisation, it wouldn’t hurt to have him suspect that ‘Stephanus’ might be a confederate.

Filch turned back to his own reading, but seemed much more relaxed. In a few minutes, he flopped down on his bed, with his own book held so Severus could read the title. Severus took a look. Charms for a Dark Day, A Handbook of Defensive Charms.

They read their books until dinnertime, then left the room. Lupin was just entering the hall. Filch went on ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albus pinched his nose. So, there was someone plumbing for recruits in the school, at least. ‘Stephanus’ sat on the other side of his desk, his feet straight on the floor, his arms crossed. “Are you sure?”

“I am to work on certain potions after class. A special project, if anyone should ask. The formulae come from Draughts of Torture and Confinement.”

Albus groaned inwardly. The book was very old. It detailed the potions, unguents, balms, salves and infusions which had been used in the past during the various wars. “I never meant to get you this involved.”

“It would have happened, even if you hadn’t said a word.”

“Still, I have to think that if I’d not asked you to pry at Filch, you’d have refused his offer.”

‘Stephanus’ shook his head. “It seems to be my fate, if there is such a thing. It’s something I’m good at. He couldn’t help but notice.”

“But, you don’t have to. It’s very dangerous.”

The dark brows rose. Apparently, ‘Stephanus’ accepted that.

“Since you have willingly taken this on, I do appreciate any information you might find.” Albus shook his head. “I do, though, feel an obligation to return you to your own time, whole and healthy.”

“How is that coming?”

“I am much better at Transfiguration, unfortunately.”

Oddly, ‘Stephanus’ didn’t seem to mind. He merely nodded, as if fate was his only assurance.

“Well, I wish you good fortune in your pursuits. Keep safe!”

‘Stephanus’ shook his hand and left.

Albus sat in his chair, thinking over what the younger man had told him. Miles, one of Grindelwald’s agents? He had known Emilius Strobe since his own school days, had studied under him, and had grown to appreciate the wizard’s kind if piercing nature. Yet, as he thought, he could see things he hadn’t noticed before: The students with their special projects, the apprentices with their late-hour assignments, and as he thought, he realised that many of Miles’s favourite students had indeed drifted toward Lord Grindelwald.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were charms in place to keep wizards from visiting the witches’ hallways. If Severus wanted to speak to McGonagall, he either had to ask a passing witch if she would go and knock on her door, or he would have to yell down the hallway.

He preferred not to yell. And there were no witches in evidence. He sat on the bench across from the witches’ hall and grimly watched the doors.

This was a ridiculous policy. They could have merely charmed the rooms, instead of making him sit there waiting until she deigned to appear. Severus glowered at the window directly down the hallway from him. He could be doing so many other things!

What if she wasn’t even there and he was wasting his time on this bench?

He didn’t know what put it into his mind, but he checked the halls, then leaned forward and called softly, “Come, kitty, kitty, kitty!” Then he sat back, in the event he should be seen engaging in such a ludicrous attempt.

A door midway down the hall opened and McGonagall’s head poked out. She waved to him, then went back inside. In a minute, she appeared again, throwing on her coat.

“I don’t want you to get the idea that I’ll come any time you call. Particularly when you order me!”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Kitty, if you please’?”

“My name would do just as well.”

Severus ran down to his room for his coat, then they went outside. Frost was already in the air. McGonagall drew closer.

“Isn’t there a rule against our being so close?”

“The ‘Twelve Inch Rule’. Though I’m afraid our bulky coats make it seem as if we’re closer.”

Severus nodded. She was lying, of course. They were much closer than twelve inches.

Even in the cold, the garden hosted couples, all of whom were ignoring the Twelve Inch Rule. Severus and McGonagall wandered past the fountain and down a row of spindly twigs that had been leafy bushes just a month before. They were decidedly breaking the rule themselves, since McGonagall had moved even closer, forcing Severus to place his arm around her.

They found a reasonably deserted spot, standing since all of the benches had been taken. McGonagall slipped inside the front of his coat. They both were warmer.

“Have you talked to Professor Dumbledore?”

“I talk to him occasionally.”

“What did he say?” she asked, raising her head.

Severus smirked down into the darkness of her face. “That would be telling.”

“You can tell me.”

“We talked about my studies.”

“Is that all?”

“Would you rather that we talked about you?”

She hesitated. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“Talk to Professor Dumbledore.”

“I did. He won’t tell me anything, either.”

“Then, it’s none of your business.”

She stepped back.

He pulled her closer again. “It’s cold out here.”

“Is that all I am? Just something to warm you?”

It was a thought. The strict professor of his memories was slipping farther and farther away, growing fainter as her younger self intruded. He hoped, he wished, that Dumbledore would fail. The man couldn’t be above a hundred, he still had some mistakes left in him!

“A sickle for your thoughts,” she said.

“Since you’re warming me so well, I wouldn’t mind staying out here all night.”

“Alone? With me? And, what if I decided to go back to the castle?”

“Then I’d have to go back, too.”

“You’re not so brave.”

“Warmth has nothing to do with bravery.”

She backed away again, but let him bring her close.

“The Academy students are going to Hogsmeade this weekend,” she said against his chest.

“Then we should definitely avoid Hogsmeade.”

“What about Mr. Lupin and Mr. Davis?”

Severus sighed. They had started going into Hogsmeade every weekend with Lupin, and sometimes Davis came along. With Christmas fast approaching, they were anxious to buy presents. “Christmas isn’t for another month. We’ll have time to make our purchases. The students only have the one day, and they’ll pick through everything.”

“I know that. I was thinking about our usual date.”

“Don’t you like being alone with me?”

She put her arms around him and he put his hands in his pockets, drawing the heavy coat closer about them both. When she raised her head again, he was ready. He bent his head and kissed her.

“You present a very convincing argument in favour of going into Hogsmeade, Mr. Stephanus.”

“I thought I rather argued against.”


	6. Winter Nights

  
Author's notes: The Christmas holidays arrive and Severus takes a room for the night in Hogsmeade. Minerva goes home. After the break, things are different. Minerva enters her second year of apprenticeship.  


* * *

* * *

They put their shopping trip off until the next weekend. Severus stayed in his room until Filch left, then he went to collect McGonagall for lunch. Afterward, they went to the co-educational common room and played a few rounds of Wand Winger. She was very adept, but Severus was quicker. He won by three points.

Lupin and Davis came in, and they played again, Lupin and Davis challenging Severus and McGonagall. Severus and McGonagall won, even with Davis’s charms.

“Have you thought of entering the Mixed Doubles tournament?” Davis asked when they were all settled on the sofa, eating pretzels and drinking butterbeer.

“I do not compete,” McGonagall said.

Severus agreed with her. Lupin and Davis smirked at each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus didn’t care for the potion he’d been assigned as his extra assignment. It was a blister cream, made specifically for the Goblins during the last Goblin Revolt. Goblins had thicker, tougher skin than humans. The cream would be devastating to any oppsition member who would be treated with it.

“I didn’t know there was still a problem with Goblins,” he remarked as Strobe checked his potion.

“There are renegades in every population. Even though the Goblins don’t associate with Wizardkind as a rule, there will be one at times who slips through the barriers and attacks.”

“I’ve heard of no such attacks.”

“Haven’t you? There was a victim not to long ago, found outside the Wizarding district of Glasgow. The Ministry doesn’t wish to frighten people, but by their silence, they encourage faulty speculation.”

“I’d heard some of the others saying that the man was a victim of the Dark Lord’s camps.”

Strobe appraised him from under his spiky brows. “So they do say. It is not wise to believe every rumour that you hear.”

Severus let the matter go. His job was to find out anything he could about Grindelwald’s organisation, short of becoming an active member. He could best do that by listening to what his informants were saying, not by arguing with them.

“The Ministry, of course, would rather not resort to such methods as this, but sometimes it is necessary. We’ll leave this to set for the two weeks, and begin a different potion tomorrow night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Christmas holidays were upon them. Apprentice training was suspended beginning the Friday before Christmas, to allow the apprentices to go back to their homes. Filch left after breakfast. Severus watched him until he walked out of the front doors, his valise in his hands.

Davis left shortly afterwards. That afternoon, Lupin’s younger brother, Cassius, picked him up. Cassius was even more like Remus Lupin, and he had a son of about the right age to grow up and become Remus Lupin’s father.

There were only a handful of apprentices left at the two back tables by dinnertime. All of the professors were still there, but Strobe was leaving directly after dinner, and Dumbledore was departing in the morning.

McGonagall wasn’t leaving until Sunday night. Her father had originally meant to collect her on Saturday, but he’d had to put it off.

“That leaves us,” Severus said.

It was nearly nine o’clock. The last Academy students were hurrying upstairs to be in their Houses, if not in their beds, by curfew. Severus and McGonagall still had an hour so they went to the gallery.

“I don’t know if I should be alone with you,” she said as they walked, “After all, there’s no one here now to chaperone us.”

“Professor Dumbledore’s still here.”

“He went to his chambers over an hour ago.”

“Who’s staying at the castle?”

“The Heads of House, and the headmaster.” She ran her fingers down his lapel. “There’s no one in charge of the apprentice floor.”

“There are charms.”

“And rightly so. I wonder what you might do without them.”

Severus kissed her as he had in the garden that Sunday morning and was rewarded by her tentative attempt to respond. His breath caught in his chest and he embraced her fervently.

“Bert?” Her lips moved against his.

“Hm?”

“The caretaker...”

Severus released her reluctantly.

“How are you going to spend your holidays?”

“I’ll be staying here.”

“I would ask you to go with me, but my father wouldn’t allow it.”

Severus had heard about Mr. McGonagall from Lupin. He was very strict, and protective of his daughters. From the way Lupin talked, Mr. McGonagall thought no one was good enough for his girls. He had lost his wife in child-bed, as well as the daughter she was bearing. Lupin had told him in order to explain McGonagall’s more aggressive personality. She was the elder of the girls and the one who butted heads with their father most often.

Severus smoothed her hair away from her cheek and kissed her lightly.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’m going into Hogsmeade tomorrow night.” He paused. “I’ve taken a room at the Hogshead. I thought you were leaving tomorrow morning...”

She frowned. “The Hogshead has a reputation, Bert. It isn’t a very nice place.”

“It’s cheap enough. And I hear the food is passable.”

“I thought we might spend some time together, since my father won’t be here until Sunday night.”

“We could still have dinner together.”

“How long are you going to stay there?”

“Just the one night. I’ll be back for breakfast.”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow again and they walked the length of the gallery. McGonagall was silent, thinking her own thoughts. Severus wondered if she was angry at him. But when he walked her back to her hall, she gave him a smile and a good-night kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Academy students had already left on the train by the time Severus came down for breakfast. He ate alone, then went up to the third floor to see if he could find McGonagall.

She was in the co-educational common room, transfiguring several silver balls into mice. He sat down on the sofa beside her and watched. When she was finished making mice, she changed them all back into silver balls, only smaller ones, which she strung together into a necklace.

“You’re not angry, are you?” he asked when she changed the necklace into a hangman’s noose.

“That would be unreasonable of me. I hope I’m not unreasonable.”

Severus eyed the noose. “You haven’t been unreasonable before.”

The noose changed to a necktie decorated with silver Snitches before becoming silver balls again.

“Aren’t Snitches supposed to be gold?”

“Making gold is Alchemy. Not Transfiguration. I can only work with what I have.”

“What do you want to do today?”

“I thought we were having dinner in Hogsmeade.”

“That’s several hours from now.”

She stacked the balls into a pyramid, then strung them along the tabletop. “We could walk in the gallery.”

“Why not the garden?”

“Because you’re a dangerous man, Mr. Stephanus.”

Severus sat back, annoyed. If she was angry, why didn’t she just say so and get it over with?

They walked in the gallery, then they studied at the library until three. The walk to Hogsmeade was very quiet. Dinner was the same.

“I’m sorry, Bert,” she said on their way back to the castle, “I really shouldn’t be upset. I know I was supposed to leave this morning. Besides, it isn’t as if we’re promised to each other.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“You’re angry, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t do this on purpose, Minerva. I thought you’d be gone.”

She turned to face him in the dark. “What are you planning on doing there?”

“Just getting out of the castle. You’ll be going home. I’ll be stuck here.”

“Will you be seeing other women?”

“If they’re there, I suppose I’ll have to see them. Unless you want me to spend the entire night in my room?”

“Even that would be a change.” Her brow rose.

“Yes, it would. But I’d like to actually do something with my one night of holiday. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

The way she said it, she certainly did mind. Severus scowled. “You’re the one who said we’re not promised to each other.”

“No. We’re not,” she said archly, “My father wouldn’t approve.”

“I’m sorry if I don’t meet his high standards. Perhaps you can wipe the grime away while you’re home.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“My father doesn’t wish me to get involved with anyone until I’ve completed my apprenticeship. You know the rules. No married students.”

“Who said anything about marriage?” Severus snapped.

“My father.”

She had raised her head, her eyes glistening with tears. Severus was shocked. She was taking this far too seriously!

They had reached the third floor. He walked her to the witches’ hallway and she stalked down it to her room. He waited until she went inside, then made his way back to Hogsmeade.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He should have waited. He should have cancelled his reservation. He’d been foolish to argue with her. He enjoyed her company.

But, he was going to have to leave as soon as Dumbledore came up with something. This wasn’t his own time, he had no business even being there. He had no business collecting information about Grindelwald’s supporters. He had no business kissing his Transfiguration professor.

But, she wasn’t his Transfiguration professor yet. She was still training. She was his age, and frankly, he liked her. He had thought about asking her to spend the night, but she would have refused. It was nineteen thirty-eight, not nineteen seventy-nine. Things were different.

Things were different, and her father was strict. Severus couldn’t imagine what her father would say if she had decided to spend the night with a man. He knew, from his own time, that she never did get married. Had her father frightened off all her suitors? Or had she come to agree with him that no one was good enough?

She did have an insolent streak. He’d only tasted a little of her sharp tongue...

There was a rattle at the window. Severus turned his head. Something was pressed against the panes. He got up and opened the window.

A tabby cat jumped in.

He knew that cat. He knew the markings, like a pair of glasses around the cat’s eyes. He put his fists on his hips and waited. She wound, purring, around his legs.

He reached down and scratched her back. She purred louder. He scratched behind her ears and under her chin. She continued to wrap herself around his ankles until he scratched her back again. Then she shot up into her human form.

“I thought I was too dangerous, Miss McGonagall.”

“You are.” She leaned into him and raised her lips for a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Neither of them spoke. They both watched the man down in the courtyard. He was making his way through the snow to the front doors.

Severus wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Someone with black hair, perhaps, someone slender, someone like his daughter. Instead, the man was bordering on portly, with a shock of bright red hair. His jacket, which showed through his unbuttoned coat, was a tartan plaid.

McGonagall lifted her bag and started down the stairs. She had already warned him about accompanying her. He could ‘accidentally’ run into them. Her father wouldn’t be angry. But if he even looked like he was escorting her, all hell would break loose.

She hadn’t mentioned the night before, not even when they woke together. Severus appreciated the gravity of what they’d done. It was nineteen thirty-eight. People just didn’t sleep together.

She had reached the entry hall as the front doors opened.

“There’s my little girl!” her father boomed in a rich Scottish accent.

The withered form of Armando Dippett moved across the floor, crossing the corners of the stones like the bishop in a chess game. The old man’s hair was so white and thin it was almost transparent, and had the appearance of water sprouting from his head. He held out his hands to McGonagall’s father and welcomed him back to Hogwarts in a friendly tone.

Dippett was just as perspicacious as Dumbledore would later be. Severus waited to go down the stairs, in case Dippett decided to say something about the night before. Dippett wasn’t Dumbledore. He was sterner. More abrupt.

Dippett finished speaking to Mr. McGonagall, then glided away. Severus heard a door close. He descended the stairs.

“Are you leaving, Miss McGonagall?” he asked, only vaguely interested.

“Yes. My father’s come to fetch me. Father, this Mr. Stephanus. He’s studying... Potions, isn’t it?”

Severus inclined his head. The man’s olive green eyes raked over him, suspicion finally supplanted with a wary friendliness. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McGonagall.”

Mr. McGonagall put out his hand. Severus took it.

“Have a happy Christmas, sir, Miss McGonagall.” Severus nodded again and walked away.

It would be a lonely two weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

McGonagall was shyly distant when she returned, but that faded. Severus refused to allow her any such reserve. He took her walking in the gallery, and sat with her during study. She began to accept that nothing had changed, and she reasserted herself into their friendship.

Shortly after the beginning of the term, another body was found. This one had been covered in boils so severe that some of them had eaten to the bone. If this was Strobe’s way of informing Severus that he had been instrumental, then his was a sobering and graphic way. Lupin was appalled. McGonagall was sickened. Even Filch had a hard time with the facts.

“Was this one of the things you’d been working on?” Dumbledore asked when they met at the end of that week.

“It was.”

Dumbledore’s eyes closed in pain. Severus marvelled at the weakness which hid such strength. Because he knew that Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald.

If this weakness was a part of the strength, then perhaps there was hope for his own time as well, a time when another Dark Lord, one who was acknowledged to be so powerful that his name was not even whispered, would step into the void left by Grindelwald’s defeat.

And, as February set in and spring advanced northward through the islands, Severus began to think about his own time again, about his obligations to people he didn’t even know, there in the future. He assisted Dumbledore with his information, but more and more, his thoughts turned home.

So much so that he didn’t notice McGonagall’s gradual retreat behind a veil of propriety, until the end of the month.

He and Lupin had made plans for a Hogsmeade weekend of their own, before the Academy students invaded and bought up everything in sight. Severus was sure that McGonagall would go with them. She always went. It surprised him when Lupin insisted that he ask her to be sure.

The snow was melting in the north-facing shadows, and puddles dotted the gravel of the garden walks. Severus paid attention to McGonagall this time, listening to the uncomfortable silence, instead of hearing his own thoughts. She was a thousand miles away. He found a secluded spot and stopped.

“What’s the matter?”

“Hm?” She came out of her reverie, blinked, then the walls went up. Her green-flecked eyes became cool, her smile professional. “Why do you think something’s the matter, Mr. Stephanus?”

She was so like her later self that he almost called her ‘professor’. “You’ve been too quiet,” he said.

“Have I? I imagine it’s because I’ve begun the second year of my apprenticeship, and Professor Dumbledore has been assigning more difficult tasks.” The smile was impersonal and quick. Then she glanced around, distracted.

“Lupin and I were discussing the weekend. You’ll be coming with us, of course?”

She almost answered in the affirmative, then stopped and shook her head. A regrettable smile, which didn’t reach her eyes, and a shake of her head, demurring.

“Why not?”

She was annoyed. Patiently, but clearly. “I have things I must do, Mr. Stephanus. Perhaps the next time.”

He watched her closely. “I’ll miss you.”

She caught her breath, and blinked, then composed herself, all in the space of a second. “I can assure you, I shall be busy enough with my...” she swallowed “...project that I’ll hardly miss myself.”

“Then, next time.”


	7. The Blur of Insects' Wings

  
Author's notes: The school year comes to a close. Minerva completes a special project.  


* * *

* * *

When he told Lupin about the exchange, Lupin frowned. He rested his chin in his palm and puzzled over it until Severus brought him out of it.

“Should we go without her?”

Lupin blew out a long, steady breath. “I think we should, or she’ll think she held us back.”

“We can’t have her thinking she ruined our weekend,” Severus drawled.

“It’s only for one weekend, you said so yourself.”

“So I did.”

They went on to making their plans.

Severus determined he should have a good time in spite of himself. He sat at their table in the Three Broomsticks, drinking his whiskey slowly, watching the crowd by the fireplace, listening to the discussions swirling around him, and being very poor company. Lupin finally stretched and yawned and suggested they return to the castle. It was only seven.

Lupin went into the apprentice wizards’ common room and was drawn into a game of cards by Davis and some of the others. Severus tried to read in his room, but he was restless. He checked the co-educational common room, peeked into the apprentice witches’ common room, walked along the gallery, tried the library, and whispered her name down the witches’ hall.

McGonagall was nowhere.

If she was working on a project, she might be with Dumbledore. He tried the office, but Dumbledore was out. So, they must be together, working on whatever it was. Severus couldn’t imagine what would be so damned important in Transfiguration. Were they transfiguring the castle’s gate to hold a sun instead of a moon?

He had his own projects to attend. He wandered down to the dungeons, but the classroom door was warded. He tried Strobe’s office, but the master wasn’t there. He was too restless to focus his attention on walking back into Hogsmeade. He wound up in the kitchens for a glass of warm milk.

Sunday was just as dreary. Severus studied in the library, visited with Lupin and Davis until Davis’s girlfriend appeared, then he went back to his room. The door was warded from the inside, and he could hear nothing.

Filch must have a date.

It wasn’t until evening, when the sinking sun spread its orange glow along the gallery, that McGonagall found him, sitting at the window, staring out at the Quidditch pitch.

“Severus?”

He frowned, and turned, suspicious. “Minerva?”

She sat down on the cushion beside him. “Professor Dumbledore’s told me some things.”

He turned away and listened. She knew more than enough. She knew too much, in fact. Was that why she stared at him so oddly as his teacher back in school?

“I wish one of you had told me. I understand why you didn’t. But, we’ve grown so close, I thought there were no secrets.”

“There was only one.”

“A very important one. I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”

“Not right now.”

“You belong in your own time.”

“Dumbledore’s working on it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Severus glowered at the burgeoning spring below them. “It isn’t customary to go shouting your arrival from another time.”

“You could have told me.”

He finally looked at her. She seemed different. Older, sadder, wiser. And, her hair seemed just a little longer.

She smoothed her hands over her hair. “Professor Dumbledore has a time turner. One of his own, and one that he’s borrowed, a larger one for more distant trips. I’ve seen the future. So, I was your instructor.”

“Don’t bring that up,” he smirked.

She laughed. “And, all this time, I could have given you detention. You really should have told me!”

“You’d have taken advantage of it.”

“I think I’ll continue to grow my hair. Don’t you think it would be better in a bun?”

“Is that where you’ve been all weekend?”

She looked away and nodded.

“Then, you won’t want to see me. Will you?”

“You’ve only three and a half more months of the school year. If you remain to complete your year, then yes, I’ll see you. Only it can never be as it was.”

“What do you mean, if I stay? Don’t you know what I’ll do?”

“I wasn’t privy to that information. I’m sorry.”

So, she knew everything about him. Severus held dark thoughts for Dumbledore. He couldn’t have done anything worse. He’d been wondering if he should try to stay, but this settled it. He would go.

The only question was, when? Now, in the middle of the term? Or, at the end? Or, in June? He was benefiting from Strobe’s instruction, but he was helping a monster as well. She hadn’t mentioned that. Did she even know? He assumed she didn’t. He would behave accordingly.

“How was your weekend?”

“Fine,” he snarled.

“Did you miss me?”

“I missed you very much. Lupin’s quite boring when you’re not around.”

“I’m glad to have made such an impact on one of my students.”

She was smirking. He squinted at her. “Will you stop bringing that up?”

“Ah-ah, language, young man, or I’ll have to give detention.”

“In Hogsmeade?” he leered.

She blushed, stared, then recalled herself and smiled. “I believe you’re far too dangerous for that.”

“Shall I show you dangerous?”

“You have shown me more danger than I ever care to see.” She kissed him chastely.

 

There were other Potions apprentices and older students who had special projects underway. Severus couldn’t tell what all the projects were, but he dutifully reported the students’ names to Dumbledore. He didn’t indulge in much discussion with Strobe, since he didn’t want to get too involved.

He did work on his assignments, knowing how they would be used. Since Dumbledore was powerless to prevent it, he merely closed his eyes when things got to be too much for him.

Severus waited, but Dumbledore didn’t mention the larger time-turner, or the possibility of getting him back to his own time. Life at Hogwarts went on as it had for the first term, uninterrupted by anything like the need to return. He went to Hogsmeade with Lupin and McGonagall, and sometimes, Davis. He studied. He pushed the idea of return to the back of his mind and began working slowly back into McGonagall’s good graces.

With a week to go before the summer holidays, Dumbledore invited him into his office. There were two time-turners on his desk, a small one with a delicate chain, and a larger one, with a correspondingly thicker chain.

“I have taken your advice, and gotten myself a time-turner.” Dumbledore tapped the smaller of the two devices. “I’m afraid it won’t take you back to your own time. For that, I’ve had to borrow one belonging to a friend.

“This is the second time I’ve borrowed it. The first time was back in March. But I needed to see how it would work, so I could take you where you needed to go.”

“I understand Miss McGonagall helped you with that?” Severus said.

Dumbledore nodded. “It gave her the chance to take care of some unfinished business.”

Severus frowned, puzzled, but no explanation was forthcoming. “So you had to tell her about me,” he said at last.

Dumbledore looked straight into his eyes. “I thought it would be best.”

Best to keep McGonagall safe. Severus nodded and avoided the older man’s eyes.

“I have the leisure to keep the time-turner for a longer period. I will be experimenting with it during the week, to be sure I have the formula correct. You’ll continue with your lessons, and hopefully, you’ll be able to return to your own time at the end of the week.

So, this would be his last week at Hogwarts. Severus didn’t mention anything about it to Lupin or McGonagall. He spent more time on his studies, and less time with his friends.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lupin asked as they sat together for dinner. “You haven’t been yourself.”

“No, I haven’t.” Severus scowled at the head table.

“Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Severus sighed. “I’m afraid it will be my last time.”

“You won’t be back in the fall?”

“No.”

“The old place won’t be quite the same.”

“I’ll take that as a complement.”

“As it was meant.”

They went into Hogsmeade and spent the day browsing the shops. They ate dinner at the Three Broomsticks, then went back to the school.

Lupin went on ahead. He was leaving in the morning and had to get his things ready. Severus had already turned in his issue the night before. All he had left were his black clothes that he’d arrived in, and a pair of slacks and a shirt he’d bought himself.

“I hear you’re leaving tonight,” McGonagall said as they walked toward the castle.

“Yes. He was able to borrow the time-turner from his friend again.”

“I think he wanted you to stay until the end of the year.”

“You would know that more than I.”

“I’ve enjoyed our time together. There were a couple of things, but overall...”

Her voice faded into a whisper, then silence as they walked. Severus knew he should respond, but now, she was becoming the professor again, and he didn’t know what was out of bounds.

He hadn’t known since March, when she had gone into the future. There had been awkward silences, and she had avoided any intimacy. Their walks had even been restricted to well-populated areas. She had grown distant.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together as well. I’ll miss you.”

“Is that all?”

“Could there be any more?”

“I suppose there couldn’t.”

Most of the other students had gone, or were packing in their rooms. Severus walked McGonagall to the apprentice witches’ hallway and gave her one last, modest kiss. Then he waited until she had gone into her room before going to Dumbledore’s office.

The professor was waiting. He draped the time-turner around both of their necks, then spun the pendant. Time went forward rapidly, like the blur of insects’ wings.


	8. ...And Back Again

  
Author's notes: Severus returns to hi s own time.

The years go by and the Final Battle is over. It is time to reveal secrets. ~Last chapter.  


* * *

* * *

It was early in the evening. The room was empty. The halls were empty and abandoned. Hogwarts seemed eerily still as they stood in the open doorway, Dumbledore waiting for something, Severus just looking around.

Then, they heard footsteps. “See who that is,” Dumbledore directed.

Severus leaned out the door. Albus Dumbledore, white-haired and regal, rounded the corner.

“It’s you,” Severus said.

Dumbledore smiled beatifically and removed the chain from Severus’s neck. Then he spun the time-turner and disappeared.

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, nodded to Severus. “We must hurry if you wish to Apparate before you go back in time.”

They left the castle and exited the gates. Dumbledore took his hand.

“Be careful, Severus. I hope that we haven’t brought you to your death in bringing you back here.”

“I won’t die if I have anything to say about it. I do have one question, though. What happened to Romulus Lupin?”

Dumbledore sighed. “He was killed in nineteen forty-three, by some of Grindelwald’s followers. By then, they were openly killing anyone who opposed them, instead of abducting them and leaving their bodies for others to find. Probably a good thing for Lupin. He died instantly.”

Severus shifted nervously. He had genuinely liked Lupin. And his loss was a sudden blow, even though the death had been instant and so far in the past. “He was a good man.”

“Yes, he was. He never married. I think he was in love with Minerva, though he was too shy to say anything.”

“I think she intimidated him.”

“That could be. Quite a few good men are intimidated by a strong woman.”

“She was strong.”

“Stronger than you know.” Dumbledore stepped back through the gates...

 

Severus waited near the path, watching himself as he fought. He saw himself thrown backwards, and at the same time, he disappeared.

He stepped forward and took his own place. No one even noticed. By the end of the battle, the Aurors were dead, and Severus was wishing to be away.

 

The final battle was over now. Old ghosts had been laid to rest. Those who persisted in following that Dark path were now ensconced in Azkaban, and Potter was hailed as the hero of the Wizarding World. There had been a collective sigh from those who hadn’t given most of their lives to defeating the Dark Lord.

For Severus Snape, there had only been collapse.

What was there to do? Now his days were free from worry and his nights were free for himself. There was no more purpose.

He stood at the windows of the gallery overlooking the grounds. The summer sun was bright in a cloudless sky. Three young people sped around the grounds on their brooms, racing down the path leading from the gate, skimming over the lake, playing tag and catch-up as if they were much younger children. Just as the games were heating up, Harry Potter slowed and settled himself to the ground. Granger and Weasley stopped, too, and the three friends sat together on the slope in the warming sun.

“I remember being about that age.”

Snape turned his head. Minerva McGonagall had paused at the far windows to watch the ‘Golden Trio’. She didn’t take her eyes off the three, even as she continued down the gallery to stop beside Snape.

“Do you remember going in to Hogsmeade with Romulus Lupin? Just the three of us?”

“I remember being attacked rather ineptly by Filch and his friends.”

“Lupin and I thought it was quite horrible.” She didn’t look up. “That was before we had ever heard of Lord Voldemort.”

“He was here. He started school that year.”

“And none of us knew it at the time. Not even you. We were quite a team, weren’t we? I remember Lupin wishing you had stayed. But that was some time later.”

Severus scowled. “I didn’t want to come back to this time.”

“I wished you didn’t have to leave as well. Maybe things would have been different if you’d stayed. But, you had to go.”

“Why?”

It had been years since he’d thought about his time in the Hogwarts of the past. Now he saw the years in between as a wasteland, a sour landscape filled with dead weeds and barren ground. He’d had no friends before or since. And since he couldn’t have any friends for their own protection, he had hated that time.

Instead of giving him Albus Dumbledore chapter and verse, she raised her head on her still-regally long neck and said, “I’ve wondered that myself.”

“What would have happened if I’d told Professor Dumbledore that I wanted to stay?”

“He’d have talked you out of it. You know how he was. I tried to convince him you should stay...”

Her words trailed off into the vulnerable voice he still remembered. “Did you? Then I’m surprised he didn’t give in. We both agreed that you were a strong woman.”

“Not strong enough.”

“He told me, when I came back, that I didn’t know how strong you really were.”

“I was weak. I was stupid.”

She had lowered her head. Snape leaned over. There were tears in her lashes. “You’re not crying! Minerva, please. I don’t think I can take that, since we can’t change it.”

“You don’t know what you can take until you have to, Severus.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ve had to stand a lot in the intervening years. Including one loss twice.”

Potter and his friends were back on their brooms, soaring out toward the Quidditch pitch. Severus almost wished he could join them and peel back the years.

“I always told myself that, when this was over, I would tell you everything. Now that time has come. I wish we still had the garden. This seems so cold and formal.”

“This is where we met. It’ll do.”

“I believe you first met me at your Sorting.”

“We weren’t equals.”

She sat down on the cushioned stone seat, drawing her legs up under her robes. She leaned her elbow on the sill and settled down to face him. Though she still looked as if she would turn toward the open air at any moment.

Severus sat beside her. “All right. It’s over. Tell me everything.”

The trio were still riding their brooms. She watched them as she spoke. “Do you remember when I tested that time-turner for Albus?”

“I thought that was odd at the time. He said it gave you a chance to take care of some unfinished business. I never did understand that.”

“Did he ever tell you that we’d had a child?”

“No.” Ice rose up in his core. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“When was I supposed to tell you? When you were finally coming to the conclusion that you did indeed belong in your own time? When you were eleven? When you were leaving school and joining the Death Eaters? Why do you think I argued with him to let you stay?”

“I thought it might be...” He stopped. She’d been acting peculiar all that spring. She never let him touch her, and their kisses had grown rare and chaste. “That explains a few things,” he said at last. “Still, why didn’t you tell me then? I wouldn’t have gone.”

“My grandmother was Muggle-born. You know how you felt. You came right out and told me that you would never marry a Muggle-born, that you preferred Purebloods. I didn’t know what you’d say, and I was afraid to find out.

“I naturally went to Albus when I suspected. He advised me against telling you. Since I was afraid of what you’d say already, I was easy to convince. That was when he told me you had come back from the future, and that you were involved in the Death Eaters. When he told me what that meant, I have to confess I was appalled. I didn’t want my child to be raised with that sort of hate. So, we devised a plan. I would go into the future, have the child, and return. You would never know.

“Albus knew exactly how to work the time-turner. He, his older self, was waiting for me when I arrived. He was very sorry, I think, to inform me that our original plan would have to be revised. We meant for it to be raised with your people. But, that was impossible. You were all that was left, it seemed, you and your parents. And Albus didn’t think your parents were suitable.”

“They weren’t.”

“So, instead, he had found another family. Distant relatives of my Muggle-born grandmother. We placed the child with them. They had started a family, but there were complications. They wouldn’t be able to have another child.

“I went back into the past, and continued with my studies. You left, we fought Grindelwald’s people, and then, Romulus Lupin died.” She looked out at the trio, who were sitting on the grass again. “We used to be like them. Remember? When Lupin died, all that was just a memory.

“I of course watched out for the child from a distance. I didn’t know it then, but she grew up to have a major role in our recent victory. All I knew at the time was, there was danger ahead. And I was afraid for her.”

“So it was a girl.”

“A very beautiful girl.”

“She didn’t take after me, then.”

“She took after my Muggle-born grandmother. It was amazing how well she fit into the family! By the time she got to Hogwarts, it was almost as if she was really theirs.”

Severus had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew the girl. He looked down at the trio, who were now lounging under a tree, Potter and Granger leaning back against its trunk, Weasley sprawled on the ground with his head in Granger’s lap.

“But, you knew her. And, I think you sort-of liked her, in a way. You never could have loved her, after all, you thought she was Muggle-born. And I think that you were sorry when she died.”

The world stopped.

“She did have a son, though.” Minerva’s mouth clamped shut and her chin quivered, like the tear at the corner of her eye. “I really wish you didn’t hate him.”

Down on the grass, Harry Potter got up from the ground and walked, alone, down to the lake. He threw a rock into the water and its ripples spread far across the mirrored surface.


End file.
